LIBRARY 

OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT    OF 


Class 


Three  Years 
Behind  the  Guns 


TH£ 


ITYJ 

X/ 


Three  Years 
Behind  the  Guns 

THE  TRUE  CHRONICLES 
OF  A  "DIDDY-BOX" 


By 

L.   G.  T. 

i 

Illustrated  by 

Chris  Jorgensen  and  George  Varian 
and  with  photographs 


New  York 

The  Century  Co. 

1908 


Copyright,  1907,  1908,  by 
THE  CENTURY  Co. 

Published  September,  igo8 


THE   DE  VINNE   PRE88 


To 

Every  Man  Who  Has  Walked 
The   Decks  of  a  Man-of-War. 


185464 


CONTENTS 

HAPTER  PAGE 

i  MY  LOG 3 

ii  ROLLING  OFF  THE  LOG 37 

in  A  TYPHOON 47 

iv  YOKOHAMA — THE    SALVATION    ARMY — COALING 

SHIP — TO-MORROW 63 

v  SNOW — THE  BALTIMORE  —  A  REAR-ADMIRAL — 

NEW  YEAR'S  DAY 79 

vi  THE  INLAND  SEA 89 

vii  MAN-O'-\VAR  POOL 94 

vin  THE  WRECK  OF  THE  ON  Woo 96 

ix  THE  GREAT  WALL  OF  CHINA— A  BOAT-RACE  .  103 
x  VLADIVOSTOK— THE  CROWNING  OF  A  CZAR  .  .in 

xi  MAN-O'-WAR  COCKTAILS 117 

xn  ON  SIGNAL  WATCH — A  TATTOOED  MAN  .  .  .125 

xni  A  BANQUET 131 

xiv  HONG-KONG — A  THIEF 136 

xv  BANGKOK — SINGAPORE— DRILLS  AND  TORPEDOES 

—  CHEMULPO  —  FLOWER  WORSHIP — BECALMED  144 

vii 


viii  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 


xvi  KEARSARGE  AND  ALABAMA — THE  QUEEN'S 

JUBILEE 152 

xvn  "THE  DAY  WE  CELEBRATE"— A  NEW  CAPTAIN 

NAMED  GRIDLEY  — TIENTSIN 164 

xvin  ON  THE  DEEP — ADAMASTOR — A  BURIAL  AT  SEA 

—  IN  A  DRIFTWOOD  FIRE 176 

xix  IN  PORT — CASEY'S  BAND  —  How  IT  is  DONE     .   187 

xx  1898 — REAR-ADMIRAL   McNAiR    RETIRED- 
ENTER  COMMODORE  DEWEY 198 

xxi  THE   LITTLE   COMMODORE — THE  MAINE  BLOWN 

UP — WAR-PAINT — SEALED  ORDERS  ....  205 

xxn  "REMEMBER  THE  MAINE.'" 214 

xxin  UNCLE  SAM  DRAWS  A  PRIZE  — SHORT  RATIONS- 
SPIKING  GUNS— AGUINALDO 245 

xxiv  PICKET  DUTY — "  You  'RE  ADRIFT  ! " — TATTOOED — 

TIRED  AND  SLEEPY 262 

xxv  JUNE  3OTH— JULY  i6TH  — GENERAL  MERRITT— 

AUGUST  i4TH— A  TARPAULIN  MUSTER  .     .     .271 

xxvi  MANILA— THE  NER o—  HOME  AGAIN  !    ....  283 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

The  search-light  in  action Frontispiece 

PAGE 

The  capstan 5 

The  Independence— The  "  Diddy-box  " 9 

The  smoking-lamp 18 

"  Sailing,  Sailing,  over  the  Bounding  Main  " 25 

The  shipmates'  feet 33 

Tim's  fish 35 

The  Olympia 41 

The    captain  in   oilskins— "  Life-lines  we   rove    from  rail 

to  stanchions " 52 

"  At  first  we  shoveled  the  burning  coal  into  sacks  "  .     .     .  54 

The   Olympia   in    a    typhoon — "  I  saw  only  the  surging, 

seething  waters,  engulfing  the  decks  " 58 

Travelers'  rest 67 

Lolling  in  the  jinrikishas 68 

Bicycling  in  Yokohama 70 

Fuji    Yama,  the   sacred   mountain    of    Japan —  Shoveling 

snow  from  the  turret  roof 75 

The  Baltimore  homeward  bound 81 

The  "  homeward-bounder  "        83 


x          LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

The  Rear-Admiral 84 

A  Rear-Admiral's  flag 85 

"  Sup-posey  you  " 92 

Chinese  junks— Execution  of  pirates 100 

"Nancy  Lee" IO4 

The  boat-race  between  the  crews  of  the  Olympia  and  the 
Charleston-"  The  Great  Wall  of  China" 109 

"  The  big-sailed  Snow  Bird" .     .114 

"Quarantined  in  the  mainmast "— "  The  great  double- 
eagle  of  Russia  "  —  At  Vladivostok — "  We  rode  in  their 
carriages" H9 

"  Bill  Bartley,  the  Olympiads  regular  '  man  overboard  '  "    .    124 

"In  the  brig" 127 

A  geisha  girl        128 

Tar  and  banjo 133 

Kuruchinama— Hong-Kong 137 

Disgraced 143 

A  Torpedo 146 

Signal  practice  on  the  Olympia 148 

Seamen  Purdy  and  McCue  fighting  their  battle  over  again    1 54 

The  Olympics  paper 157 

Gun-drill  on  the  Olympia 162 

Our  Independence  Day  program 167 

The  derelict  in  the  driftwood  fire— "Far  out  at  sea"   .      .179 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS  xi 


PAGE 


A  derelict—  "Out  on  the  trackless  waste  of  the  Pacific"   183 

Casey's  band — Adamastor 190 

It   is  easy  to  crawl    through  a    hawser-hole  and    clamber 

down  the  chain 192 

Bill  Hartley's  chevrons 196 

Jack  Heeny's  chevrons 199 

Commodore  Dewey's  state-room  on  the  Olympia      .     .     .  204 

"  Coaling  " 209 

Giving  the  Olympia  her  coat  of  "war-paint"       .     .     .     .211 

The  forward  deck  of  the  Olympia 217 

Commodore  Dewey  on  the  bridge  of  the  Olympia    .     .     .  224 

In  the  fighting-top 229 

Admiral  Dewey  on  the  after-bridge  of  the  Olympia       .     .235 

"  We  cheered  them  as  they  sank  " 242 

The  bridge  of  the  Olympia 247 

"All  that  was  left  of  Spain's  wreckage"  —  Old  Spanish 
cannon 258 

"  Water-spout  ahoy  !" 265 

The  Admiral's  launch 268 

The  First  Nebraska  marching  up  the  beach  toward 
Manila — Band  of  the  First  Colorado  marching  up  the 
beach  toward  Manila 275 

The  Dewey  medal 285 

Inside  the  Golden  Gate  again 289 


THREE  YEARS  BEHIND 
THE  GUNS 


TM£ 

UNIVERSITY 

Of 

<4UFORNt* 


THREE  YEARS  BEHIND 
THE  GUNS 


CHAPTER  I 

MY  LOG 

U.  S.  F.  S.  Olympia, 

SAN  FRANCISCO  BAY, 
Thursday,  August  8,  1895. 

TELL  your  troubles  to  a  policeman,"  runs  the 
saw.  Would  that  I  might,  or  to  any  other 
man  on  terra-firma!  But  if  there  is  on  this  great 
globe  one  place  where  man  hides  his  light  under  a 
bushel,  it  is  on  a  man-of-war.  Here  nobody  asks 
nor  answers  "Why?"  to  other  questions  than, 
"Where  do  you  hail  from?"  And  while  there  are 
hundreds  of  fellows  about  me,  apparently  con 
tent,  and  even  delighted  with  this  state  of  affairs, 
I  am  so  hungry  for  companionship  that,  to  avert 
heart-starvation,  I  am  forced  into  the  writing  of 
another  diary.  —  Come  off,  Jackie!  You  're  not 


4    THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

a  school-boy  any  longer,  but  a  landlubber  on 
board  a  man-of-war,  and  this  is  your  log.  Here 
will  you  bring  your  joys  and  your  sorrows,  just 
as  you  used  to  carry  them  to  your  mother.  Dear 
little  Momsie,  how  her  heart  is  aching  to-night ! 
And  I.  ...  Cut  it  out,  boy!— the  past, 
home,  and  all  that  sacred  word  implies. 

My  new  life  began  a  month  and  a  half  ago, 
when  I  ran  away  to  sea  and  boarded  the  Inde 
pendence,  with  nine  other  applicants  (all  stran 
gers  to  one  another),  for  the  United  States  Navy. 
Even  as  I  write,  the  cold  chills  return  and 
chase  up  and  down  my  spine,  recalling  to  me  an 
officer  whose  ferocity  of  mien  has  won  for  him 
the  nickname  of  "The  Bulldog."  Perhaps  he  is 
just  the  man  for  the  place ;  as  with  a  watch-dog, 
when  you  see  him  growling  at  the  porter's  lodge, 
you  are  at  liberty  to  turn  back  or  to  face  the  ter 
ror.  I  had  chosen  a  name  to  enlist  under;  but 
when  the  Bulldog  growled,  "What  's  your 
name?"  I  positively  forgot  it,  and  up  and  told 
him  on  the  spot  the  name  given  me  by  my  spon 
sors  in  baptism,  together  with  the  one  I  have  in 
herited  from  many  generations  of  Americans. 
Once  I  had  spoken  it,  the  tension  was  relieved; 
and  when  he  asked  me  what  I  was  qualified  to  do, 
I  asked  him  to  give  me  something  on  deck.  From 
him  we  were  passed  on  to  the  doctor,  whose 


MY  LOG  5 

greeting  was :  "Come  on,  come  on,  strip  off ;  let 's 
see  what  you  're  made  of." 

We  stripped,  and  went  through  an  examination 
that  was  first  cousin  to  hazing.  Some  he  kept 
longer  than  others ;  and  when  I  saw  a  bulky  Irish 
man,  who  weighed  one  hundred  and  eighty,  come 
back  with  his  card  marked  "Rejected,"  I  thought 
of  my  one  hundred  and  thirty-two  pounds,  and 
my  heart  sank.  But  of  the  ten  only  three  were 
accepted,  and  I  am  one  of  them. 

We  all  dressed  and  went  above,  where  the  offi- 
cer-of-the-deck  called  out:  "Those  who  have  been 
accepted  by  the  doctor  lay  aft  to  the  captain  and 
be  sworn  in." 

The  captain  was  promenading  the  poop-deck. 
When  we  came  into  his  presence  he  stepped  to  the 
capstan  and  took  from  it  a 
small,  well-worn  Bible  (I 
wonder  if  it  was  the  same 
his  mother  gave  him  when  he 
went  away  to  Annapolis), 
which  he  held  in  his  hand, 
THE  CAPSTAN  and,  folding  his  arms  across 
his  breast,  told  us  to  hold  up  our  right  hands; 
then  asked  our  names,  country,  birthplace,  were 
we  married,  had  we  been  in  jail,  etc.  Then  briefly 
reciting  the  articles  of  war,  he  asked:  "Do  you 
realize  the  importance  of  the  oath  you  are  about 


6  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

to  take?"  Three  affirmatives  came  short  and 
quick.  The  captain  lifted  the  Bible  in  his  right 
hand,  and  the  oath  was  taken  which  makes  me  for 
three  years  a  sailor.  In  a  fatherly  manner  the 
captain  then  spoke  to  us,  bidding  us  endeavor  to 
be  good  boys,  a  credit  to  our  country,  and  a  pride 
to  the  ship  we  sailed.  } 

With  this  admonition,  we  were  turned  over  to 
a  sailor  they  called  "Jack-o'--the-dust"  (I  wonder 
why  "o'-the-dust"^  and  we  followed  "Dust"  be 
low. 

In  the  store-room  I  found  a  man  whose  time 
had  expired;  he  was  about  my  size,  and  I  pre 
sented  him  with  the  suit  I  was  wearing.  He  put 
it  on  with  evident  pride  (it  was  almost  new,  and 
had  cost  Dad  forty-five  dollars),  and  I  watched 
him  walk  down  the  gang-plank.  Just  for  a  second 
I  wished  I  were  in  those  clothes  again,  but  "Out 
of  sight,  out  of  mind/'  and,  turning  at  "atten 
tion,"  I  was  fitted  out  with  everything  a  sailor 
needs— from  needles  and  thread  to: 

One  hammock,  with  mattress ; 

Three  mattress-covers ; 

One  pair  white  blankets ; 

Two  blue  flannel  suits  of  clothes ; 

Three  white  duck  suits  of  clothes; 

Two  white  cap-covers ; 

Two  blue  caps ; 


MY  LOG  7 

One  watch  cap ; 
One  suit  oilskins ; 
Two  neckerchiefs ; 
Two  suits  underwear ; 
Two  pair  navy  shoes ; 
Six  pair  socks ; 
Blacking  and  brush ; 

Bowl,  cup,  and  plate  of  white  agate-ware  with 
blue  bands,  and  U.  S.  N.  in  blue  on  each  piece ; 
Knife,  fork,  and  spoon; 
One  pea-jacket; 

And  last,  but  not  least- 
One  Diddy-box. 

A  Diddy-box!— The  sanctum  sanctorum  of 
Uncle  Sam's  Navy.  Only  yesterday  I  heard  a 
lesson  on  its  sacredness,  as  one  man  berated  an 
other  until  every  adjective  in  his  vocabulary  was 
worn  to  tatters,  when  he  arose  to  the  convincing 
climax:  "Why,  that  man  is  low  enough  to  go 
through  a  shipmate's  diddy-box !" 

Dressed  in  my  uniform,  with  the  rest  of  my 
chattels  tied  in  a  canvas  bag,  I  was  turned  loose 
on  the  deck  of  the  Independence.  From  innate 
modesty,  I  held  my  shirt  together  at  the  throat, 
and  stood  wondering— (The  two  who  enlisted 
with  me  I  have  never  recognized  to  this  day.)  At 
that  moment,  I  believe  I  would  have  bartered 
all  I  had,  to  have  turned  Time's  wheel  backward 


8  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

for  just  one  week ;  but  while  I  stood  thus,  half  be 
wildered,  a  fellow  walked  up  with  extended  hand 
and  said:  "Duke  me,  kid!"  From  his  gesture  I 
knew  it  was  a  hand-shake  and  responded.  He 
said :  "I  see  you  Ve  made  it.  Are  you  going  on  the 
Olympia?"  I  answered  that  I  hoped  so. 

The  fates  so  ordained  it  that  before  sundown 
of  the  day  of  my  enlistment,  my  hope  was 
realized,  as  I  was  one  of  fifty  who  were  drafted 
from  the  Independence  to  the  Olympia. 

On  the  cutter  that  brought  us  over,  we  were 
each  given  a  ticket ;  mine  read : 

U.  S.  F.  S.  Olympia 

Watch   Starboard 

Division Second 

Gun  Aft  Turret  No.  i 

Boat Whale  22 

Mess    No.  3 

Battalion  Co No.  3 

Ship  No.,  hammock,  and  bag  2149 

A  careful  perusal  left  me  almost  as  enlightened 
as  a  Dutchman  would  be  with  a  Chinese  guide 
book.  But  the  chap  who  had  extended  to  me  the 
glad  hand  in  the  morning  was  at  my  elbow,  and 
said:  "Show  me  your  billet."  Just  a  glance,  and 
he  said :  "You  are  all  right ;  you  are  right  next  to 
me,  and  I  will  help  you  until  you  get  started." 


THE  "DIDDY-BOX 


MY  LOG  ii 

And  so  he  has,  from  that  hour  up  to  the  pres 
ent.  I  have  christened  him  Handy  Andy,  for  he 
is  the  handiest  article  I  have  known  since  my  first 
knife — My  first  knife!  It  had  eight  blades,  in 
cluding  a  button-hook,  a  saw  and  a  corkscrew.  As 
I  recall  it  now,  it  weighed  a  pound,  and  was  a  gift 
from  Santa  Claus.  How  compares  it  with  the 
single  blade  Uncle  Sam  has  given  me,  and  which 
now  hangs  from  my  lanyard  ? 

But  back  to  Andy.  He  is  heart  from  his  cap- 
band  to  his  shoe-soles;  and  though  he  speaks  a 
vernacular  that  at  first  was  difficult  to  recognize 
as  English,  I  find  it  unique,  and  would  gladly  re 
produce  it  in  writing  if  I  could ;  but  to  say  "goil" 
for  girl,  and  "loidy"  for  lady,  is  such  a  feeble 
imitation,  I  shall  not  attempt  it.  "Tough  ?"  Not 
one  bit  of  it.  He  came  from  New  York  City,  has 
served  his  apprenticeship,  and  this  is  his  second 
cruise— probably  as  much  as  I  shall  ever  know 
about  his  past.  He  knows  everything,  and  has 
hinted  to  me  that  there  are  no  "stairs,"  but  lad 
ders,  on  ships,  and  that  it  is  always  either  "above" 
or  "below."  There  are  not  four  "stories"  to  the 
ship;  but  a  torpedo-deck,  berth-deck,  gun-deck, 
and  a  spar-deck.  Many  more  are  the  things  he 
has  told  me,  but  I  cannot  remember,  nor  under 
stand  half  of  them  yet ;  but  one  bit  of  advice  was, 
"When  them  guys  with  the  swords  and  buttons 


12  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

ask  you  anything,  don't  know  nothing.  If  you 
tell  them  you  do,  you  '11  get  a  call-down;  'cause, 
you  see,  they  '11  tell  you  Uncle  Sam  is  paying  them 
to  tell  you  that/ 

Acting  on  this  advice,  when  asked  if  I  knew 
anything  of  military  tactics,  I  answered,  "Not 
much,"  and  was  placed  in  the  awkward  squad; 
but  being  unable  to  hide  four  years'  training  in  a 
military  academy,  was  -  soon  promoted  to  the 
ranks,  and  with  the  blue-jackets  marched  in  the 
Fourth  of  July  parade.  It  was  a  novel  sensation 
to  be  on  exhibition  on  Van  Ness  Avenue,  in  San 
Francisco.  1  was  not  looking  for  familiar  faces, 
but  from  the  pavement,  whence  came  the  cheer 
ing,  I  thought  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  golden  hair 
and  a  pair  of  blue  eyes  looking  surprised  and  in 
quiringly.  I  wonder  if  she  recognized  me? 

While  there  is  small  fear  that  I  shall  ever  for 
get,  I  think  it  proper,  in  writing  a  log,  that  I 
should  record  my  first  difficulty. 

It  occurred  on  the  morning  of  June  25.  To 
sleep  in  a  hammock  under  the  trees  where  you 
can  throw  your  leg  over  the  side  and  find  firm 
footing,  is  very  different  from  having  it  swung  so 
high  that  you  can  touch  the  ceiling  with  your 
hands,  and  be  entirely  out  of  the  way  of  the  tall 
est  man  on  board  as  he  walks  the  deck.  The  fear 
of  falling  and  breaking  my  neck  had  kept  me 


MY  LOG  13 

awake  all  night.  At  five  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
I  was  rousted  out.  I  got  into  my  new  uniform, 
but  could  not  fix  my  hammock.  Andy,  to  the  res 
cue,  said :  "I  '11  lash  up  for  you  to-day,  kid ;  don't 
be  discouraged ;  in  a  month  you  will  take  to  it  like 
you  take  to  your  Jimokey." 

I  asked  him  what  Jimokey  was,  and  he  seemed 
surprised  that  I  did  not  know  it  to  mean  Jamaica 
—coffee. 

At  nine  o'clock,  having  eaten  my  breakfast,  I 
stood  wondering  where  Andy  was.  Everybody 
seemed  employed;  but  all  sailors  looked  alike  to 
me,  so  I  smoked  and  waited  until  startled  into  a 
cold  perspiration  by  hearing  my  name  shouted  as 
from  a  megaphone,  and  I  was  hurried  before  the 
officer-of-the-deck.  I  found  him  fairly  writhing 
with  rage;  he  paced  the  deck,  swung  his  arms, 
and  roared ;  then  going  to  the  gun-rack,  he  wrote 
something  in  his  report-book.  While  all  this  was 
going  on  I  stood  as  speechless  as  a  wooden  Indian 
in  front  of  a  cigar  shop.  The  details  are  lost ;  but 
I  went  to  Mare  Island,  where  I  worked  all  day, 
like  a — a — a — ,  well,  a  man-of-war's-man ! 

Every  Saturday  morning  at  eleven  o'clock  they 
hold  what  is  termed  "The  Stick."  The  captain  is 
judge,  the  accuser  is  the  prosecuting  attorney, 
and  you  are  your  own  lawyer.  Andy  had  re 
marked  at  breakfast  that  I  was  down  for  a 


14  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

chance,  and  wanted  to  know  what  I  was  going  to 
do.  I  told  him,  "Nothing."  "That  won't  do," 
said  Andy.  "Just  lay  low  until  you  get  before  the 
skipper,  then  give  him  the  straight  goods ;  but  cut 
it  short/' 

In  answer  to  my  name,  I  stepped  before  the 
captain,  and  uncovered.  With  a  grave  look  he 
told  me  I  was  reported  for  neglect  of  duty- 
shirking  and  inattention  to  the  bugle  call.  A 
charge  like  this  is  serious  enough  to  send  a  man 
to  the  Island ;  but  when  I  told  him  I  did  not  know 
there  had  been  a  bugle  call,  he  plied  me  with  ques 
tions  until  he  found  I  had  been  on  ship  less 
than  twenty-four  hours;  then  the  cloud  passed 
from  his  face  and  he  excused  me,  but  repri 
manded  my  accuser  for  not  having  looked  into  the 
matter  before  reporting  me. 

The  Olympia  is  a  protected  cruiser  with  a  main 
battery  of  four  8-inch  guns,  and  ten  5-inch  rapid- 
fire  guns;  secondary  battery,  fourteen  6-pound- 
ers,  and  six  i-pounder  rapid-fire  guns,  and  four 
gatlings. 

I  belong  to  the  aft  Turret-gun  No.  i ;  and  my 
hammock  swings  in  the  first  row  aft  in  the  star 
board  gangway  on  the  gun-deck.  From  it  I  catch 
fleeting  glimpses  into  the  captain's  cabin.  It  is  in 
deed  his  castle ;  for  there  he  eats,  sleeps,  and  holds 
court.  The  captain  of  a  man-of-war!  Who  on 


MY  LOG  15 

earth  is  to  compare  with  him?  Not  a  king,  nor 
an  emperor.  His  power  is  absolute ! 

To  minister  to  his  personal  comforts,  he  has  an 
orderly  (a  marine),  a  steward,  a  cook,  and  a  cab 
in-boy.  His  table  is  spread  with  Irish  linen,  and 
laid  with  Sevres  china,  cut  crystal,  and  sterling 
silver ;  but,  unless  presiding  at  a  banquet,  he  takes 
his  meals  like  a  hermit — absolutely  alone. 

But  there  are  twenty-two  messes  on  board. 
One  of  them,  Mess  No.  3,  is  on  the  starboard  side 
of  the  gun-deck.  From  the  ceiling  there  hangs, 
on  a  wire  cable,  a  wooden  table  immaculate  from 
frequent  scrubbings,  but  quite  bare  of  linen. 
Three  times  a  day  it  is  pulled  down,  and  the 
benches  that  are  folded  on  top  of  it  are  placed 
alongside.  Near  by  there  is  a  mess-locker,  which 
contains  almost  everything  to  be  found  in  a  well- 
regulated  larder,  or  pantry.  Below  the  locker 
hang  a  dish-pan,  a  bread-tub,  and  two  "breakers" 
—one  for  vinegar,  the  other  for  molasses.  This 
is  where  I  take  my  meals.  There  are  twenty-one 
of  us.  We  laugh  and  joke ;  but  we  are  creating  a 
new  comradeship,  and  not  for —  ?  Well,  I  know 
this  much :  I  have  no  desire  to  be  a  captain  of  a 
man-of-war. 

Last  week,  with  the  Naval-inspector  on  board, 
we  went  to  San  Diego  on  our  official  trial  trip. 
The  Olympiads  contract  calls  for  a  speed  of 


16  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

twenty  knots,  but  for  eight  hours  she  logged  22.6 
-the  fastest  time  ever  made  on  the  Pacific. 
There  is  a  fine,  modern  patent  log  aboard ;  but  for 
all  that  we  held  the  reel  each  hour,  and  took  the 
time  with  chips  and  glass,  just  as  it  was  done  by 
the  earliest  navigator. 

Off  San  Diego,  we  had  target  practice.  The 
8-inch  Turret  guns — the  only  ones  about  which 
there  seemed  to  be  any  question — proved  them 
selves  all  right;  but  the  5-inch  gun,  Battery  No.  4, 
on  port  side,  because  of  her  recoil  cylinder  not  be 
ing  properly  filled,  jumped  out  of  her  carriage, 
pinning  Coxswain  J—  to  the  deck,  and  instantly 
killing  him.  This  ended  target  practice  second. 
We  weighed  anchor  almost  immediately.  The 
dead  coxswain  was  wrapped  in  the  union-jack 
and  placed  upon  a  bier  under  the  after  bridge  of 
the  spar-deck;  and  with  a  sentry  of  blue-jackets 
standing  guard,  he  was  carried  back  to  Mare  Is 
land,  where,  with  naval  honors,  he  was  commit 
ted  to  the  earth. 

A  touching  tribute  to  his  memory,  a  sketch  of 
the  tragedy  and  an  accompanying  poem,  both  the 
work  of  shipmates,  has  been  neatly  put  into  print, 
and  distributed  among  the  crew. 

On  our  return  trip,  as  we  were  casting  anchor 
at  Sausalito,  a  boatswain  had  his  leg  cut  off.  It 
must  be  events  like  these,  coupled  with  the  know- 


MY  LOG  17 

ledge  that  we  are  soon  to  sail  on  a  long  cruise  to 
the  Orient,  that  make  a  fellow  think  of  things  he 
is  trying  to  forget. 

Well,  Diddy,  we  have  had  a  long  confab  to 
night,  and  I  feel  better.  We  will  probably  not 
have  so  exhaustive  a  seance  again ;  but  to-morrow 
night,  between  eight  and  nine,  I  shall  bring  you 
here  on  this  mess-chest,  and  have  a  little  chat  with 
you.  And  so  on  each  day,  I  hope,  until  June  24, 
1898. 

U.  S.  F.  S.  Olympia,  Friday,  August  9,  1895. 

Have  been  aboard  one  month  and  a  half,  and 
have  made  more  blunders  to-day  than  I  did  the 
first  week.  Can  it  be  because  my  mind  has  been 
wending  backward  ? 

August  loth. 

"And  the  old,  old  story  is  told  again  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  morning."  For  then  the  big  gun 
booms;  the  bell  strikes  two;  the  bugle  sings:  "I 
can't  get  'em  up— I  can't  get  'em  up."  The  boat 
swain  pipes,  then  in  a  thunderous  voice  drawls 
out,  "A-l-1  hands— up,  a-1-1  hammocks—,  come 
on—,  roust  out —  lash  and  carry!"  This  is  the 
song  of  the  merry  chanter,  as  out  we  tumble.  In 
eight  minutes  we  are  dressed,  hammocks  lashed, 
and  stowed  in  a  netting  on  the  spar-deck;  then 
back  to  our  "jimock"  —  a  cup  of  coffee  taken 


i8  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

standing.  At  half  past  five  again  the  boatswain 
pipes,  and  thunders  the  order:  "A-l-1  hands 
.  .  .  turn  to  and  scrub  the  decks  with  sand; 
a-1-1  hands  scrub  all  white  paint  and  clean  all 
bright  work." 

At  half  past  seven  each  man  gets  a  bucket  of 
fresh  water,  strips  to  the  waist  line  and  takes  a 
sailor's  bath.  His  towel  he  hangs  on  a  line ;  then 
comes  mess-gear — breakfast  on  the  table.  After 
breakfast  he  takes  down  towels,  blackens  shoes, 
and  gets  ready  for  quarters. 

Colors  at  eight  every  morning,  no  matter  when 
the  sun  rises.  At  nine,  the  bugle  sounds  the  sick 
call;  at  half  past  nine,  quarters; 
muster,  then  drill.  At  eleven 
o'clock  the  bugle  sounds  retreat; 
and  here  is  where  you  get  in 
your  extra  work  until  noon, 
when  the  boatswain  pipes:  "To 
mess/'  Simultaneous  with  the 
piping,  a  red  pennant  is  run  up 
the  yard-arm,  where  it  floats  for 
one  hour.  The  meal  pennant  is 
always  up  at  meal-times;  and  while  it  floats 
the  smoking-lamp  is  lighted,  and  it  is  only  when 
it  is  burning  that  smoking  is  allowed.  The  smok 
ing  hours  are  the  meal  hours,  and  during  the 
evening  recreation;  though  often,  when  there  is 


THE    SMOKING-LAM1' 


MY  LOG  19 

no  drill,  nor  other  work  it  would  interfere  with, 
the  officer-of-the-deck  grants  special  permit  for 
the  lamp  to  burn.  Dinner  over,  there  are  boxing, 
reading,  and  all  sorts  of  things  (including 
extra  work)  going  on  until  half  past  one, 
when  the  bugle  sounds  "quarters."  Then  come 
instructions  in  gunnery,  signals,  seamanship,  et 
cetera.  To-day  I  had  boat-drill,  pulling  a  1 6- foot 
oar  (not  a  bit  like  sculling  for  ducks). 

After  boat-drill  we  had  to  hoist  and  clean  them, 
make  up  sails,  and  put  fresh  water  into  the  break 
ers.  There  has  been  more  scrubbing  and  clean 
ing,  enough  to  keep  us  on  the  jump  until  after 
five,  when  we  had  fifteen  minutes  at  "monkey- 
drill" —  callisthenics;  and  were  ready  to  answer 
the  mess-pipe  and  sit  down  to  supper  at  half  past 
five.  It  is  only  then  that  the  day's  work  is  done : 
the  smoking-lamp  is  left  burning,  boxing-gloves 
and  punching-bags  are  brought  on  deck  (Uncle 
Sam  furnishes  these  as  well  as  dumb-bells,  Indian 
clubs,  etc.),  and  joy  revels  uninterruptedly  until, 
as  the  dusk  gathers,  you  hear  from  the  bridge  the 
quartermaster  announce  to  the  officer-of-the-deck : 
"It  is  one  minute  to  sundown,  sir."  The  officer-of- 
the-deck  tells  the  captain's  orderly  to  tell  the  cap 
tain  it  is  one  minute  to  sundown.  Returning 
from  the  captain's  cabin,  the  orderly  says :  "The 
captain  says,  'Make  it  so/  '  The  quartermaster, 


20  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

from  the  bridge,  announces:  "Sundown!"  The 
officer  of  the  deck  says :  "Sound  it  off/'  The 
drum  gives  three  rolls,  the  bugle  sounds  colors, — 
while  every  man  on  deck  faces  aft,  stands  at  at 
tention,  and  salutes  the  flag  as  it  falls.  At  eight 
the  bugle  sounds  "Hammocks."  All  hands  stand 
in  line,  two  by  two,  at  the  hammock  netting.  The 
boatswain's  mate  calls:  "Uncover!"  Hats  are 
doffed,  and  a  silence  that  lets  in  the  sound  of 
splashing  water  on  the  ship's  sides  settles  over  all 
as  the  chaplain  comes  on  deck  and  offers  a  brief 
but  fervent  prayer  for  the  loved  ones  at  home  and 
the  sailors  on  the  deep.  Then:  "Pipe  down."  All 
in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  write  it.  Each  ham 
mock  hangs  on  its  own  hooks.  Some  turn  in  at 
once,  while  others  go  on  with  the  sport,  or,  as  I 
am  at  this  moment  doing,  write.  At  nine  o'clock 
there  comes  the  firing  of  guns  and  "Taps."  If  I 
can  find  the  man  who  calls  a  sailor's  life  a  lazy 
one,  I  should  like  to  have  a  word  with  him. 

Sunday,  August  nth. 

No  matter  what  Sunday  was  intended  to  be,  on 
a  man-of-war  it  is  verily  not  a  day  of  rest.  From 
the  captain  down,  every  one  in  authority  is  look 
ing  for  trouble.  They  call  it  inspection,  and  once 
a  month  it  is  general  muster.  When  I  recall  that 
there  are  fifty-two  of  them  each  year,  and  three 


MY  LOG  21 

years  of  them,  I  fear  I  shall  be  gray-headed  be 
fore  I  am  twenty-one  years  old. 

Monday,  August  I2th. 

Wrote  a  letter  home  to-night,  so  have  no  need 
to  write  here. 

Tuesday,  August  I3th. 

The  routine  work  never  changes;  but  some 
times  it  is  one  drill,  and  sometimes  another.  To 
day  we  had  single-sticks — I  always  have  liked 
fencing. 

Wednesday,  I4th. 
Ought  to  get  an  answer  to-morrow  morning. 

Thursday,  I5th. 

The  letter  came.  It  was  short,  but  said,  "Come 
home  before  you  sail."  I  asked  leave  of  the  lieu 
tenant  commanding,  and  he  tells  me  things  which 
mean  I  'm  "pledged"  to  Uncle  Sam,  and  must 
put  up  "security"  for  my  return.  Have  written 
the  result  of  the  interview  home. 

Friday,  i6th. 

While  waiting  an  answer  to  last  night's  letter, 
will  write  the  story  of  the  bells. 

Andy  says  I  will  disgrace  my  uniform  if  I  do 
not  stop  talking  about  "getting  up  at  five  o'clock" 
instead  of  saying  "turning  out  at  two  bells."  On 
ship,  there  are  as  many  hours  in  a  day  as  there 


22  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

were  blackbirds  in  the  king's  pie;  but  it  takes 
twice  that  number  of  bells  to  tell  their  flight. 
Time,  here,  is  divided  into  six  watches  of  eight 
bells  each,  and  each  watch  changes  on  eight  bells. 
They  are  designated : 


The  Star  Watch,  which 

comes  on  at  8  bells. 

.   4  A.M. 

Morning  Watch,       " 

"  "  8  bells. 

.    8  A.M. 

Day  Watch, 

"  "  8  bells. 

.  12  noon 

Dog  Watch, 

"  "  8  bells. 

.  4  P.M. 

Farmer's  Watch,      " 

"  "Shells. 

.   8  P.M. 

Graveyard  Watch,    " 

"  "  Shells. 

.  midnight 

Star  Watch, 

"  "  Shells. 

.  4  A.M. 

i  bell  . 

.  4130A.M. 

f  Reveille, 

2  bells 

4 

(5  A.M. 

3  bells  . 

.    5  130  A.M. 

4  bells. 

.   6  A.M. 

5  bells  . 

.  6:30  A.M. 

6  hells. 

.   7  A.M. 

7  bells  . 

.   7:30  A.M. 

f  Colors, 

Day  Watch, 

"  "  8  bells 

1  8  A.M. 

Saturday,  I7th. 
Working  like  a  dog,  and  waiting  for  my  letter. 

Sunday,  August  i8th. 

Sunday  and  still  waiting.     I  know  it  will  be 
here  in  the  morning. 


MY  LOG 


Monday,  August 
Nine  o'clock  brought  the  letter,  with  twice  the 
amount   I   need.      Lieutenant   commanding   has 
granted  me  forty-eight  hours'  leave,  and  I  'm 
rushing  for  the  2 115  train. 

Wednesday,  August  2ist. 

Have  washed  off  the  slate  and  said  good-by; 
and  now  let  me  whistle,  "A  life  on  the  ocean 
wave." 

Friday,  23rd. 

Still  coaling  ship,  and  she  looks  like  a  raven. 
(So  do  I.) 

Saturday,  24th. 

We  have  scrubbed  her  fore  and  aft— she  looks 
like  a  swan.  (  But  I  don't. ) 

SAN  FRANCISCO  BAY,  Sunday,  August  25th. 

Omitted  much  routine  work  in  getting  ready 
for  sea.    We  have  tested  the  patent  life-preserv 
ers  ;    those    great, 
sugared       dough 
nuts      that      hang 
at    quarters,    and 
found     them     fit. 
Should     the     cry 
come,  "Man  overboard !"  immediately  one  will  be 
dropped;  the  concussion  with  the  water  will  ig- 


24  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

nite  a  fuse,  and  instantly  there  will  burn  two 
lights  upon  it.  The  preserver  is  large  enough  to 
buoy  up  five  or  six  men,  and  the  lights  on  them 
will  burn  for  twenty-four  hours.  It  is  under 
stood  that  the  man  overboard  is  to  make  for  the 
preserver.  The  life-boats  are  not  to  seek  the  man 
in  the  water,  but  to  pull  straight  for  the  lights. 

In  the  event  of  a  collision,  we  know  just 
where  to  find  mats  to  stop  the  hole.  And  we 
know  the  fire-drill  better  than  I  know  the  wig 
wag.  If  the  call  comes,  "Abandon  ship,"  we  are 
ready.  To-day,  into  each  boat,  we  put  breakers 
of  fresh  water,  a  case  of  canned  corned  beef,  and 
a  case  of  hardtack.  Hardtack  for  sea  is  put  up  in 
sealed  tin  boxes.  Two  of  these  are  nailed  inside  a 
wooden  case,  which  is  then  sewed  up  in  canvas 
and  painted.  This  makes  a  package  about  the 
size  of  a  small  trunk,  and  quite  as  natty  looking. 
Each  boat  has  its  boat-box,  which  contains, 
among  other  things,  a  compass,  sail  needles  and 
twine,  a  box  of  fish-hooks  packed  in  tallow,  etc. 
These  are  already  in  the  boat,  and  each  man 
—there  are  fourteen,  including  the  officer,  in  the 
whale-boat  I  belong  to — knows  exactly  where  to 
go  and  what  to  bring.  One  will  seize  a  mess- 
bucket,  and  throw  into  it  a  few  plates,  cups, 
spoons,  etc.  (each  man  has  a  knife  always  at  the 
end  of  his  lanyard) ;  another  gets  more  provi- 


SAILING,   SAILING,   OVER    THE    BOUNDING    MAI." 


MY  LOG  27 

sions ;  another  a  rifle ;  still  another  must  bring  two 
boxes  of  ammunition  for  it ;  some  one  gets  out  the 
oars,  while  others  are  at  port  to  lower  the  boat. 
My  task  is  to  go  to  the  officers'  ward-room  and 
bring  the  medical  emergency  box.  I  am  not  an 
ticipating  trouble;  but  should  the  order  come,  in 
eight  minutes  after  the  bugle  sounds  our  many 
oars  will  dip  water,  and  we  will  be  pulling  for  life. 
Of  course,  the  larders  are  stocked,  and  the  re 
frigerators  filled  with  fresh  meat.  The  chests  and 
other  loose  articles  are  lashed.  We  are  all  ready ; 
and  with  to-morrow's  dawn  the  "Queen  of  the 
Pacific"  will  get  under  way. 

Monday,  August  26th.    At  sea. 

At  four  bells,  all  in  concert,  the  boatswains 
piped  and  called:  "A-l-1  hands  on  deck — u-p  an 
chor  !"  Then  the  engines  groaned,  the  propellers 
began  their  first  earnest  work,  c-h-u-n-g- 
c-h-o-n-g  went  the  machinery,  and  we  were  off. 
The  pilot  .directed  the  man  at  the  wheel;  and  the 
captain,  in  all  his  glory,  stood  on  the  bridge  in  the 
early  morning  watch. 

It  was  five  bells  when  we  cleared  the  bar,  and 
my  heart  beat  time  to  the  song  in  my  brain : 

Sailing,  sailing,  over  the  bounding  main, 
For  many  a  stormy  wind  shall  blow, 
Ere  Jack  comes  home  again. 


28  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

There  is  a  law  of  the  sea  that  regulates  the 
watch :  If  the  ship  sails  on  a  date  of  even  number, 
the  port  takes  the  first  lookout;  if  it  is  on  an  odd 
date,  the  starboard.  Being  the  twenty-eighth,  the 
port  took  the  watch  at  colors  this  morning.  Every 
man  in  the  crew  from  now  on,  while  at  sea,  will  be 
off  and  on  duty,  day  and  night,  for  four  hours  at 
a  stretch,  barring,  of  course,  the  break  that  comes 
in  the  dog-watch. 

At  sunset  colors,  the  running  lights  come  on; 
and  while  they  burn  there  comes  from  the  watch 
ers  on  the  bridge,  with  each  succeeding  bell,  its 
announcement,  thus:  "eight  bells,  and  a  port 
bright  light,"  "eight  bells,  and  a. starboard  bright 
light."  To  this  the  masthead  lookout  answers 
back,  "A-l-1  's  well !"  And  so  on  and  on,  through 
the  watches  of  the  night. 

Cleaning,  scrubbing,  mess  and  quarter,  all  go 
on  at  sea  just  as  in  port. 

As  we  came  out  of  the  Golden  Gate  this  morn 
ing,  we  were  met  by  a  gentle  zephyr,  which  grew 
and  stiffened,  until  at  noon  it  was  a  trade-wind 
that  to-night  is  gathering  for  a  storm. 

Some  of  the  boys  are  showing  symptoms  of 
mal-de-mer;  fortunately,  I  have  thus  far  escaped 
and,  in  consequence,  have  just  been  told  that  to 
night  I  am  to  stand  the  first  lookout  in  the  grave 
yard  watch. 


MY  LOG  29 

At  sea.    Tuesday,  August  27th. 

When  I  tumbled  out  of  my  hammock  at  mid 
night,  I  was  dumbfounded  to  find  I  could  not  keep 
my  legs  under  me.  I  was  thrown  promiscuously 
about  the  gun-deck  as  I  struggled  to  get  into  my 
clothes.  I  had  but  one  thought,  a  wreck;  and  I 
expected  every  moment  to  hear  the  bugle  sound, 
"Abandon  ship!"  But  instead,  the  boatswain 
piped,  "All  hands  on  deck !"  Together  we  put  up 
steadying  sails;  then  the  port  watch  turned  in, 
and  we  were  on  deck.  I  cannot  recall  just  what 
was  said  as  the  watch  was  handed  over  to  me ;  but 
I  shall  never  forget  that  first  night  aloft.  I  clung 
like  grim  death  to  the  shrouds,  saw  nothing,  but 
answered,  "All  's  well/'  to  the  bridge,  as  the  dis 
mal  groaning  of  the  rigging  stole  through  my 
senses. 

At  sea,  August  28th,  Wednesday. 

The  storm  has  abated.  My  shipmates  say  I  'm 
good  for  twenty  years  in  the  navy.  Was  not  sick 
during  the  storm,  and  took  to  the  ratlines  like  a 
duck  to  water. 

At  sea,  Thursday,  August  29th. 

The  dog-watch  was  originally  the  dodge  watch. 
It  is  as  plain  as  day  now:  at  sea  the  dog-watch, 
from  eight  bells,  4  P.M.,  to  eight  bells,  8  P.M.,  is 
cut  at  four  bells,  when  the  watch  shifts,  prevent 
ing  the  men  from  standing  the  same  watch  two 


30  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

consecutive  nights ;  and  it  is  at  this  shift  the  dog 
watch  howls.  It  is  the  high  jinks  of  the  seaman. 
No  longer  does  a  challenge  run,  "I  '11  see  you  on 
shore" ;  but  while  the  minstrel  thrums  his  banjo, 
or  rattles  his  bones,  singing,  "Mammy's  Little 
Alabama  Coon" ;  the  wits  crack  jokes,  and  the  old 
seaman  spins  his  yarn;  all  scores  are  settled  ac 
cording  to  Queensbury  rules,  or  by  rough  and 
tumble,  as  the  contestants  elect.  Whichever  it  be, 
it  is  always  a  fair  fight  and  no  favor.  Hurrah 
for  the  dog-watch ! 

BY  THE  BELL  BY  THE  CLOCK 

Eight    4         P.M. 

One 4 130     " 

Two    5  " 

Three    5 130     " 

SUPPER 

Four   6 

Five 6 130     " 

Six    7  " 

Seven    7 130     " 

August  30,  Friday.    At  sea. 
Ploughing  the  main ;  besides  doing  regular,  as 
well  as  extra,  duty  on  ship. 

Saturday,  August  3ist. 

The  passing  of  the  storm  has  left  me  so  filled 
with  good-will  toward  man  that  on  the  gun-deck 


MY  LOG  31 

this  morning  I  greeted  old  McCue.  He  was  not 
slow  to  acknowledge  the  salute,  but  he  did  it  by 
telling  me  that  "good-morning"  is  the  kind  of 
talk  they  use  in  young  ladies'  seminaries.  (One 
type  of  a  man-of-war's-man.) 

Sunday,  September  ist. 

Just  like  a  ploughshare  wakening  the  crickets 
in  the  stubble,  the  ship  has  all  day  startled  the  fly 
ing-fish.  Apparently  they  sleep  under  the  waves 
until  wakened  by  the  ship,  when  up  they  come. 
One  of  them,  in  its  flight  to-day,  fell  flopping  on 
the  forecastle,  where  I  caught  it  in  my  hands.  It 
was  quite  two  feet  long,  and  we  had  it  for  to 
night's  mess.  The  meat  was  sweet  and  delicious. 
I  had  been  taught  that  flying-fish  are  from  three 
to  twelve  inches  in  length ;  but  this  two- footer  I 
saw  with  my  own  eyes  and  caught  with  my  own 
hands. 

All  day  we  have  been  running  races  with  great 
schools  of  porpoises.  By  thousands  they  run 
along  with  the  ship,  apparently  playing  leap 
frog,  like  boys  when  school  lets  out. 

Monday,  September  2nd. 

Will  anchor  at  Honolulu  to-morrow.  Visions 
of  tropical  fruits  picked  fresh  from  their  moor- 


32  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

ings  go  dancing  through  my  brain— But  I  must 
not  anticipate;  this  is  only  a  place  to  register 
what  is. 

Tuesday,  September  3,  Honolulu. 
Disgust  and  disappointment!  My  eyes  were 
scarce  opened  when  I  recognized  Diamond  Head. 
It  is  there,  true  enough,  with  its  jagged  cliffs  and 
cocoanut-trees,  just  as  you  see  it  in  the  picture- 
books.  But,  as  we  came  steering  in,  we  were  met 
by  a  tug  whose  mission  was  to  report  cholera  in 
Honolulu;  and  here  I  am  spending  my  first  night 
in  the  tropics,  not  listening  to  native  music,  while 
I  gorge  myself  with  succulent  fruits ;  but  in  quar 
antine,  and  still  on  sea-rations,  with  my  clothes 
clinging  to  my  body  like  adhesive  plaster,  and  my 
lungs  laboring  in  vain  to  be  inflated  with  this 
slow,  sultry,  sweltering  air. 

September  4,  Wednesday. 
The  uniform  for  each  day  is  decided  by  the 
joint  authority  of  the  doctor  and  the  commanding 
officer.  One  is  actuated  by  climate  and  health,  the 
other  by  the  eternal  fitness  of  things.  Every  ship 
carries  a  set  of  colored  pictures  of  sailors  in  their 
various  uniforms.  They  are  laid  loose  in  a  frame 
measuring  ten  by  twelve  inches.  Each  day  the 
one  chosen  is  put  next  to  the  glass  and  hung  on 
the  log-writer's  door ;  here  goes  the  boatswain  to 


MY  LOG 


33 


get  his  cue,  and  while  the  men  are  breakfasting, 
pipes  the  order.  To-day  it  ran : 

"The  uniform  for  the  day  will  be  white  work 
ing  clothes,  and  bared  feet." 

I  was  breathing  at  every  pore  from  excessive 
humidity,  as  I  dragged  myself  to  quarters — be 
ginning  to  feel  like  an  invalid,  and  feeling  sure  I 
should  never  smile  again, — when  I  cast  a  sidelong 


THE    SHIPMATES      FEET 


glance  down  the  line,  and  grew  faint  from  sup 
pressed  laughter.  The  feet  of  my  shipmates  were 
anything  but  in  uniform.  Some  of  them  are  so 
elaborately  tattooed  they  look  for  all  the  world 
like  carpet  slippers ;  while  others  have  only  a  star 
on  each  toe.  Butterflies,  either  in  sportive  groups, 
or  with  one  great  sphinx-moth,  covering  the  en 
tire  instep,  are  in  high  favor;  while  snakes  and 
monkeys  follow  a  close  second.  One  fellow,  an 
Irish-American,  has  one  corner  of  the  English 
flag  running  up  the  side  of  his  ankle,  the  main 
part  being  where  he  ever  tramples  upon  it.  I 
judge  that  it  is  only  after  a  second  enlistment  that 


34  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

the  tattoo  fever  gets  into  one's  feet.  Personally, 
I  think  I  can  serve  my  whole  term  without  its  at 
tacking  any  part  of  my  anatomy. 

Thursday,  September  5th. 
Although  the  routine  of  ship  life  is  so  monot 
onous  that  one  might  think  to  keep  its  record  by 
writing  dates  and  ditto,  when  night  comes  we  al 
ways  find  it  different  from  yesterday.  To-day 
the  cleaning  of  the  smoking-lamp  fell  to  my  lot. 
The  smoking-lamp  is  shaped  like  a  conductor's 
lantern,  with  a  great  tray  at  the  bottom,  like  the 
brass  relics  of  our  ancestors.  It  is  made  with 
open  sides  and  unglazed ;  within  its  bright  frame 
a  lard-oil  lamp  burns,  but  not  always— only  at 
prescribed  hours :  at  meal  hours,  the  dog-watch, 
and  by  the  gracious  leave  of  the  deck  officer,  but 
never  when  the  magazines  are  open.  It  always 
hangs  on  the  gun-deck  with  a  tub  of  water  be 
neath  it — a  damp  sepulcher  for  burnt-offerings. 

Sunday,  September  8th. 

With  heat  and  discontent,  this  log  is  narrowing 
to  bi-weekly  records ;  but  I  must  not  overlook  the 
native  fishermen.  Their  craft  is  a  light  canoe, 
made  seaworthy  by  bamboo  outriggers  extend 
ing  four  or  five  feet  over  its  sides.  These  boats 
carry  from  two  to  four  men,  who  make  a  pleasing 


MY  LOG 


35 


picture  with  their  black  bodies  scantily  clad  in 
weathered    white.      We    are    anchored 
about  a  mile  from  the  surf.    The  fishes 
have  made  our  back  yard  their  camping 
ground,  and  here  the  fishermen  come 
with  their  nets,  shaped  like  huge  chain 
purses  made  from  twine.    The  clasp  is 
of  bamboo,  and  when  set  has  an  open 
ing  of  from  ten  to  twelve  feet;  a  little 
bag,  lying  at  the  bottom,  is  jerked  open, 
causing  the  bait  to  float.     The  moment 
it  starts,  schools  of  little  fish  dart  above 
it;  the  clasp  is  sprung,  the  net  hauled 
into  the  boat,   emptied,   and   reset.     I 
fancy  that  on  shore  they  cook  the  fish; 
but  here,  just  as  one  enjoys  a  cherry 
when   picking,    they   daintily   take   the 
head  between  their  thumb  and  finger, 
put  the  rest  into  their  mouth,  and  eat 
it  with  a  gusto  that  makes  us  wish 
for     a   small- 
fry.  The  doc 
tor     says     all 

the  fish  have  _ 

cholera ;       so  ™rs  FISH 

we     are    still 
eating  "salt-horse"  and  cursing  our  fate. 

It  was  this  very  fate  that  drove  Timmy,  an  ap- 


36  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

prentice,  to  go  fishing  one  night  off  Honolulu. 
Now  for  a  man-of-war's-man  to  drop  a  fishing 
line  over  the  side  would  be  no  less  a  crime  than 
the  spiking  of  a  turret-gun;  but  there  are  ways 
unknown  to  the  powers  that  rule,  and  it  was  for 
Timmy  to  embrace  one.  The  foot  of  Tim's  ham 
mock  peeps  through  a  porthole  on  the  berth-deck, 
and  here  he  set  his  baited  hook  and  waited  for  a 
nibble.  In  this  stifling  climate  time  loses  its  reck 
oning — it  seems  interminable.  Sleep  lured,  and  a 
craving  stomach  pleaded.  Tim  compromised  by 
turning  ends,  and,  fastening  the  line  about  his 
great  toe,  yielded  to  sweet  slumber.  How  long  he 
slept  does  not  matter,  but  the  yell  that  rent  that 
night-watch  will  never  be  forgotten.  They  who 
ran  to  the  rescue  found  him  clinging  to  his  ham 
mock  clews,  his  eyes  starting  from  their  sockets, 
yelling  like  an  Indian,  "Glory!  I  Ve  lost  a  leg!'' 
A  shipmate,  hastening  above,  reached  over,  and, 
cutting  the  line  from  the  all  but  severed  toe, 
landed  a  magnificent  fish.  We  called  it  a  sixty- 
pounder,  though  it  was  never  weighed.  It  seemed 
a  cross  between  a  salmon  and  a  perch.  It  was 
smuggled  in  and  distributed  to  its  limit,  proving 
delicious  eating,  and  the  only  decent  meal  we  have 
had  in  Hawaii. 


CHAPTER  II 

ROLLING  OFF  THE  LOG 

A  LOG  is  a  thing  you  have  to  write  on  every 
day  you  live,  or  it  ceases  to  be  a  log.  See 
what  a  mess  I  have  made  of  it !  But  the  old  saw, 
"There  is  nothing  easier  than  rolling  off  a  log," 
shows  me  my  way  out.  I  am  just  going  to  roll  off 
the  log  right  here  on  the  spot,  and  write  impres 
sions  and  reminiscences  just  as  they  occur  to  me. 

We  are  anchored  about  a  mile  out  from  the 
surf,  seemingly  as  motionless  as  "a  painted  ship 
upon  a  painted  ocean,"  while  the  shifting  pano 
rama  of  Molokai  shows  us  to  be  riding  great 
ground-swells. 

When  on  top  we  see  the  leper  villages,  guarded 
by  sharp  rocks  cutting  the  waves  as  they  ride 
shoreward,  and  tossing  the  spray  fifty  or  a  hun 
dred  feet  into  the  air,  whence  it  falls  into  a  snowy 
foam,  like  a  garland  of  white  roses  upon  a  living 
sepulcher.  The  swell  goes  on,  and  the  blue,  blue 
ocean  cuts  away  the  shore-line,  leaving  to  our 
vision  only  the  far-reaching,  towering  cliffs  with 

3  37 


38  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

their  tropical  verdure  and  purple  ravines;  and 
thus,  come  again,  go  again,  shifts  the  picture; 
while  the  waves  that  splash  the  sides  of  the  ship 
whisper  "Unclean." 

I  blush  to  own  it,  but  I  so  longed  for  a  closer 
look  that  I  was  delighted  to  be  of  a  cutter-crew 
which  carried  the  American  consul  from  our 
ship,  out  to  meet  the  little  white  leper  ship.  She 
is  a  small  steamer  that  plies  among  the  islands, 
picking  up  the  unfortunate,  and  carrying  them  to 
this  place  of  refuge.  As  we  drew  alongside,  the 
consul  boarding  her  upper  deck,  I  could  look  in  on 
the  lower.  She  is  fitted  with  seats,  back-to-back, 
like  those  on  the  Oakland  ferry.  There  were 
about  twenty  victims  that  day.  Some  of  them 
were  in  irons,  and  swearing  like  pirates.  There 
were  but  two  women;  they  clung  about  each 
other's  neck  and  cried  piteously.  There  was  noth 
ing  in  their  appearance  suggestive  to  me  of  any 
thing  worse  than  an  advanced  stage  of  consump 
tion,  or  "dope  fiend."  We  were  not  there  longer 
than  half  an  hour;  and,  in  shoving  away  from 
her,  I  noticed  every  one  used  oar  or  boat-hook, 
instead  of  placing  hands  upon  the  leper-boat. 

At  another  time  it  was  in  a  whale-boat  that  took 
our  doctor  ashore  to  visit  the  settlement.  It  is  a 
rough  landing  at  all  times,  sometimes  impossible 
to  make ;  but  with  tide  and  wind  in  our  favor,  we 


ROLLING  OFF  THE  LOG  39 

easily  made  it.  Our  doctor  was  met  at  the  landing 
and  taken  to  the  village.  While  awaiting  his  re 
turn,  I  noticed  men  going  about  attending  to  their 
duties  in  the  most  ordinary  manner,  and  it  was 
only  when  I  observed  the  two  guards  we  had 
brought  along,  standing  with  loaded  guns  and 
bayonets,  I  remembered  that  on  three  occasions 
the  lepers  had  taken  boats  away  from  visitors, 
and  made  their  escape.  I  then  realized  that  the 
men  with  the  guns  were  not  bits  of  red  tape,  but 
a  wisely  ordained  means  of  precaution. 

While  we  waited,  I  thought  of  many  things, 
and  was  sadly  glad  when  we  gave  way  on  our  oars 
and  pulled  for  the  Olympia. 


IF  there  is  a  day  on  board  that  a  sailor  can  call 
his  own,  it  is  Rope- Yarn  Sunday,  which  always 
falls  on  Wednesday.  It  is  then  he  mends  or  puts 
his  traps  in  shipshape.  What  an  odd  picture  the 
deck  presented  to-day !  Half  a  dozen  little  hurdy- 
gurdy  sewing-machines  running,  some  cobbling, 
and  all  sorts  of  things  which  a  fellow  used  to 
have  done  he  must  do  for  himself.  It  is  a  good 
chance,  when  time  permits,  to  write  a  letter  home, 
and  I  noticed  an  old  sailor:  he  had  written 
U.  S.  F.  S.,  when  off  came  his  cap,  and,  while  he 
held  it  in  his  left  hand,  scanning  the  band,  he 


40  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

slowly  wrote  "Olympia."  He  wears  half  a  dozen 
enlistment  stripes  on  his  arm,  and  whether  he 
had,  for  the  moment,  forgotten  what  ship  he  was 
on,  or  whether  it  was  a  lesson  in  orthography  he 
was  studying,  no  one  dared  ask. 


IT  has  been  said  that  the  native  of  India  re 
joices  not  more  over  the  killing  of  a  tiger  than  the 
native  Hawaiian  over  the  killing  of  a  tiger-shark. 
Sharks  are  so  numerous  about  ships  that  it 
has  ceased  to  be  a  novelty  to  hook  either  the  dog 
or  mackerel  species, — ranging  in  length  from 
four  to  eight  feet— and  dispatch  it  with  a  battle- 
ax.  But,  yesterday,  an  officer  shot  a  tiger,  or 
basking-shark,  that  must  have  measured  more 
than  thirty  feet  in  length.  It  was  wounded  and 
bleeding,  when  the  men  from  the  fishing-boats 
saw  it,  and  begged  that  it  be  not  shot  again,  but 
given  to  them.  These  sharks,  though  more  than 
three  times  the  size,  are  not  so  dangerous  as  some 
of  the  smaller  species.  They  made  fast  to  it  and 
towed  it  into  the  surf,  where  some  swimmers 
started  a  gladsome  sound,  which  was  taken  up, 
repeated  again  and  again,  until  a  veritable  song 
of  rejoicing  ensued,  which  wakened  the  sleepers 
on  the  beach.  In  a  twinkling,  the  white  surf  was 
alive  with  black  bodies.  They  came  into  the  wa- 


ROLLING  OFF  THE  LOG  43 

ter,  bringing  clubs  and  knives.  They  fairly 
fought  each  other  for  points  of  vantage.  They 
clubbed  and  cut,  rode  on  its  back,  and  beat  it  with 
their  feet  and  fists,  until  resistance  ceased;  then 
the  multitude  hauled  it  upon  the  beach,  where 
some  spent  the  excess  of  their  fury  by  throwing 
themselves  upon  the  creature  and  imbedding  their 
teeth  in  the  carcass. 

It  was  a  scene  of  interest  to  us  landlubbers, 
but  Seaman  McCue  says,  "Sharks  ain't  no  more 
than  sunfish  to  a  man  with  any  sort  o'  nerve. 
Why,  back  in  the  early  seventies,  when  I  was  here 
in  these  very  waters,  me  and  a  shipmate  was  in 
swimmin',  when  a  big  man-eater  planted  his  teeth 
right  in  my  left  thigh.  I  had  n't  no  knife,  of 
course,  and  I  gin  him  a  hit  with  my  fist,  but  his 
d—  -  old  hide  was  so  tough  he  never  felt  it,  but 
was  swimming  out  with  me  fast.  I  seen  my  ship 
mate  pulling  for  shore,  and  I  knowed  I  could  n't 
wait  for  orders,  so  I  just  turned  and  bit  my  teeth 
in  his  old  jaw  (I  Ve  got  awful  powerful  jaws 
myself),  and  the  way  that  shark  opened  his'n  and 
sailed  for  the  deep  seas  was  a  caution.  Pshaw! 
them  Kanacky  niggers  is  showin'  off;  that 's  all." 


THE  call  to  general  quarters,  or  battle-drill,  we 
answer  as  readily  as  the  mess-call.    Although  it 


44  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

has  no  stated  time,  and  is  supposed  to  come  a  sur 
prise,  whether  in  port  or  at  sea  it  has  always  come 
in  the  daytime.  But  last  week,  when  we  were  an 
chored  well  out  at  sea,  our  object  being  to  test 
compass,  etc.,  it  was  2-bells  before  the  mid- watch 
-"in  his  hammock  at  midnight  the  sailor  boy 
lay"— when  the  gongs  sounded  "Cast  loose  and 
provide."  It  was  the  battle-call!  In  less  time 
than  it  takes  to  write  it,  every  officer,  every 
man,  was  at  his  station:  beside  the  guns,  at 
the  magazine,  at  the  ammunition-hoists,  or  in 
the  torpedo  room.  Then  as,  in  waking  from 
sleep,  a  giant  monster  strains  each  separate  mus 
cle  until  its  whole  being  is  alert  with  action,  so 
each  man  does  his  part.  Up  the  hoists  come  the 
ammunition,  cartridges  weighing  from  one  pound 
to  those  weighing  two  hundred  and  fifty  being 
handled  with  equal  facility ;  the  guns  are  loaded ; 
the  next  order  is,  "Aim !"  followed  ordinarily  by 
"Secure!"  Then  the  loads  are  withdrawn,  re 
turned  to  the  magazines,  and  the  drill  is  over. 
But  that  night,  instead  of  "Secure,"  the  bugle 
sounded  "Fire !"  Not  a  man  blundered ;  but  I  am 
sure  the  stars  in  heaven  ceased  to  twinkle,  as 
twenty-three  guns  went  off  in  unison.  Was  the 
order  given  to  test  us,  or  was  a  junior  officer  giv 
ing  orders  in  his  dreams  ?  We  shall  never  know. 


ROLLING  OFF  THE  LOG  45 

HAWAII,  "the  Paradise  of  the  Pacific,"  whose 
praises  men  never  cease  to  sing,  has  been  to  us 
anything  but  a  Paradise  for  six  long,  murky,  sul 
try  weeks.  The  imps  of  Hades  have  been  in  the 
air.  Our  navigator  was  sunstruck,  and  was  sent 
home  the  second  week  we  were  here.  Even  the 
volcano  has  sulked,  and  not  a  glimmer  of  his  lurid 
splendor  has  he  flaunted  for  us.  And  all  the  time 
we  have  been  without  fresh  meat;  eating  yams— 
the  Almighty  certainly  intended  them  for  fire 
wood,  and  not  for  Christian  stomachs— and  not  a 
lemon  or  a  lime  to  brew  a  cooling  drink.  Even  our 
first  mail  was  destroyed  in  the  precautionary  fum 
igation.  If  ever  we  come  closer  to  mutinying,  I 
shall  hope  not  to  be  .there.  With  rations  unfit  and 
insufficient,  we  felt  like  prisoners  in  a  workhouse ; 
and  we  acted  the  part.  Coal  was  unnecessarily 
wasted  by  spilling  into  the  sea;  men  sulked,  and 
refused  to  work.  When  they  were  put  into  the 
brig,  their  shipmates  called:  "Let  them  out,  or 
put  us  in,  too."  And  I  believe  there  was  n't  a 
mother's  son  of  us  who  would  not  have  been  glad 
to  jump  ship  and  swim  home  had  it  been  pos 
sible.  Oh,  it  is  a  bitter  dose  this,  but  I  poured  it 
out  myself,  and  am  going  to  keep  swallowing  and 
never  squeal. 

Matters   were  growing  from  bad   to  worse, 
when,  finally,  being  reduced  to  neither  salt  nor 


46  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

pepper,  we  called  for  the  skipper.  Like  a  father 
he  came  to  us,  asking,  "What  is  it,  my  boys?" 
Once  our  troubles  were  laid  before  him,  every 
thing  changed. 

Captain  Reed  is  a  man  and  an  officer,  every 
inch  of  him,  and  he  has  a  crew  that  will  stand  by 
him  until  the  ocean  freezes  over. 


CHAPTER  III 

A  TYPHOON 

THE  lingering  sun  seemed  listening  to  the 
sweet  strains  of  "Aloha"  as  they  floated  out 
from  the  shore ;  the  captain  had  said  it  was  sun 
set;  the  boatswain  piped  "A-l-1— 11  hands  u-p  an 
chor  !"  and  we  bade  a  fond,  a  glad  farewell  to  Ha 
waii  as  our  running  lights  came  on. 

In  this  little,  new  world  afloat  I  have  been 
learning  so  many  things  that  I  had  not  noticed 
our  lights,  but,  missing  one  from  half  way  up  the 
mainmast  rigging,  I  asked  Andy  what  had  be 
come  of  it. 

I  think  I  detected  a  tinge  of  disgust  in  his  voice 
when  he  asked  me  if  I  had  never  heard  of  an  an 
chor  light  burning  at  sea.  Then  he  showed  me 
how  all  of  the  electric  lights  were  placed  where 
their  beams  would  fall  entirely  within  the  ship. 
With  the  exception  of  the  running  lights  (four  in 
all)  we  were,  to  the  man  in  the  moon,  in  darkness. 
On  either  end  of  the  bridge  a  triangular  box,  or 
reflector,  holds  a  light :  the  starboard  end  a  green, 


47 


48  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

the  port  a  red.  At  the  stern  of  the  ship,  and  di 
rectly  in  its  middle,  a  white  light  is  boxed,,  while 
from  the  f oretop  a  white,  bright  light  that  rivals 
Sirius,,  the  dog-star,  proclaims  over  the  whole 
world  of  waters  that  she  is  a  man-of-war. 

During  the  night  we  passed  numberless  is 
lands,  but  by  noon  on  the  following  day  there  was 
no  land  in  sight,  and  though  the  feel  of  the  trop 
ics  lingered  in  our  bones,  the  keen  breath  of  old 
Ocean  soon  drove  us  into  watch-caps  and  jerseys. 
Neptune  was  sleeping.  His  long-drawn  breath 
ing  waved  his  blue  blanket  into  billows  whose 
only  gleam  of  white  was  a  feathery  froth  cut  by 
our  ship  and  trailed  in  our  wake,  and  into  whose 
spray  the  tiny  storm-petrels  hung  their  slender 
legs,  apparently  treading  the  water,  which  was 
growing  dark  and  darker,  frowning  back  at  the 
darkening  sky  above. 

Old  salts  will  tell  you  that  Mother  Carey  con 
trols  her  chicks  as  unfailingly  as  the  barometer 
controls  its  mercury,  but  it  was  the  latter  the  offi 
cers  depended  upon ;  and  whenever  a  chance  could 
be  found  we  would  hasten  'midship,  hoping 
against  reason,  but  the  tell-tale  silver  was  sink 
ing,  sinking,  in  the  barometer.  Steadying  sails 
were  hoisted,  the  guns  trained  in,  life-boats  made 
ready  in  their  cradles  with  their  oars  doubly 
lashed.  In  short,  we  "secured"  for  a  storm,  and 


A  TYPHOON  49 

were  scarce  ready  when  an  ugly  green  sea  rushed 
upon  us,  pouring  brine  into  every  corner  of  the 
ship. 

Because  Bill  Phelan  discovered  a  cozy  corner 
on  the  gun-deck  where  men  could  lie  and  snooze 
when  off  duty,  it  was,  even  before  we  left  San 
Francisco,  christened  the  "Phelan  Building." 
When  this  particular  sea  went  over  us,  it  left  six 
inches  of  water  on  the  gun-deck,  and  the  boys 
crawled  out,  declaring  the  Phelan  Building  was 
swamped.  Bill  never  stirred.  The  ship  rose  and 
pitched,  while  the  spent  water  rushed  fore  and  aft 
writh  the  force  of  a  hydraulic  monitor,  and  still 
Bill  hung  to  a  stanchion,  apparently  unruffled. 
When  his  shipmates  pleaded  with  him  to  come 
along,  he  answered  by  asking : 

"Do  you  think  I  am  going  to  leave  all  this  nice 
warm  water  to  go  out  in  the  cold  storm?  Don't 
disturb  me,  please,  until  the  smoke-stacks  are 
under." 

But  a  treble  from  the  bos'n's  pipe  summoned  all 
hands  on  deck,  for  there  was  an  alarming  odor 
permeating  the  whole  ship.  There  was  a  regular 
search  party  set  on  the  track  of  those  fumes.  Day 
and  night  it  never  abated,  and  after  forty-eight 
hours'  search,  a  fire  was  reported  in  a  coal- 
bunker  situated  in  dangerous  proximity  to  the  aft 
8-inch  magazine.  It  was  unquestionably  a  case 


50    THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

of  spontaneous  combustion.  The  coal,  evidently 
being  damp,  had  ignited  under  the  friction  caused 
by  the  ship's  roll ;  but  it  was  not  the  cause  that  in 
terested  us  now,  it  was  the  threat  and  how  to 
avert  it. 

To  have  done  our  fire-drill  would  have  proved 
disastrous ;  instead,  then,  of  turning  the  hose  with 
salt  water  into  the  bunkers,  the  hollow  compart 
ment  surrounding  the  ammunition  magazine  was 
flooded,  and  the  black-gang,  like  rats  in  a  grain- 
bin,  dug  into  the  coal ;  and  while  they  fought  the 
fire  below,  a  perfect  discipline  reigned  on  deck: 
hatches  and  gun-  and  air-ports  were  doubly  se 
cured  ;  life-lines  we  rove  from  rail  to  stanchions ; 
crossing  and  recrossing,  knotting  and  tying,  we 
wove  a.  network  over  and  about  the  whole  ship. 
Along  her  sides  we  trailed  oil-bags,  and  the  sea- 
anchor,  a  great,  bulky  parachute,  was  cast  astern, 
where  it  dragged  and  sulked  like  a  bulldog  at  its 
chain,  while  the  grinding  waters  on  the  ship's 
sides  sounded  not  unlike  his  growl,  and  the  ship 
stood  on  beam  ends,  while  mountainous  billows 
rode  under  her ;  or  she  stood  trembling  in  every 
fiber,  gathering  strength  for  the  onset,  and  she 
would  cut  through  the  sea  like  a  torpedo  shot 
from  its  gun.  Then  she  would  rock  and  roll,  her 
masts  whipping  the  brine  like  fly-rods  on  a  trout- 
stream. 


THE    CAl'TAIN    IN    OILSKINS 


UKE-UNES    WE    KOVK    KKOM    KAII.    TO    STANCHIONS 


A  TYPHOON  53 

Releasing  hold  of  the  life-line  for  one  instant 
as  he  was  going  inside,  a  man  was  dashed  pite- 
ously,  and  stunned,  against  the  turret.  Before 
he  could  recover  himself,  the  returning  wash  bore 
him  away  with  as  little  ado  as  if  at  drill.  The 
life-buoy  was  loosened  from  its  trigger,  and  the 
order  was  trumpeted  to  "Man  the  life-boat." 

Whale-boat  No.  22,  hanging  at  the  lee,  was 
called  away.  We  were  all,  twelve  men  and  a  cox 
swain,  in  place  ready  to  cast  adrift,  when  the 
skipper,  who  had  no  sense  but  sight  left,  trum 
peted  from  the  bridge,  "Belay  that  life-boat." 

I  stopped  praying,  and  thanked  God. 

When  the  men  down  there  below  got  the  fire 
under  control  it  broke  out  in  two  more  bunkers; 
then  there  were  no  longer  black-gang  nor  deck 
hands.  Everybody  (even  the  marines,  who  never 
work)  took  a  turn.  At  first  we  shoveled  the 
burning  coal  into  sacks,  dragging  it  to  the  fire- 
room;  but  the  sacks  would  burn  away,  spilling 
their  fiery  contents  before  we  could  reach  the  fur 
nace.  Thus  we  were  forced  to  keep  to  the  iron 
buckets.  One  man  at  a  time  would  crawl  through 
a  small  door  into  the  smoldering  bunkers,  shovel 
a  bucketful,  and  hasten  away  to  make  room  for 
the  next.  We  dared  not  throw  one  shovelful  over 
board,  for  it  was  our  fuel,  the  ship's  only  hope. 

The  iron  walls  of  the  engine-room  caught  one 


54    THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

stray  note  from  the 
rhapsody  of  the  storm, 
and  held  it  in  a  tremolo 
that  silenced  the  hiss 
ing  voices  of  flaming 
tongues  licking  in  the 
smoldering  coals ;  and 
in  their  fantastic  wav- 
ings  I  saw,  in  memory, 
a  little  child  dip  the 
pretty  tips  of  a  long 
peacock-feather  brush 
into  a  burning  grate, 
lift  it  proudly  above  his 
head,  and  march  away 
with  his  flamboyant 
torch  in  his  left  hand, 
while  his  right  beat  an 
imaginary  drum,  and 
his  baby  lips  toot-toot- 
tooted  an  air  that  marked  his  "marching  through 
Georgia/! 

It  was  a  strange  time  and  place  to  recall  such 
a  scene  in  my  babyhood,  but  I  remembered  still 
further  they  had  said  I  was  truly  doomed  to  some 
fearful  ending,  and  I  was  wondering  if  it  had  not 
come,  when  another  sea  broke  above,  and  drove 
us  under  tons  of  water  down  into  the  deep. 


"AT  FIRST  WE  SHOVELED  THE  BURNING 
COAL  INTO  SACKS" 


A  TYPHOON  55 

For  nine  days  the  fires  continued,  sometimes 
smoldering,  sometimes  raging  just  like  the  ty 
phoon  that  played  with  the  ship,  and  during  those 
nine  days  and  nights,  which  seemed  like  ninety, 
there  was  neither  hammock  nor  mess.  Hardtack 
and  coffee,  taken  as  one  could  catch  it,  was  the 
only  ration. 

Human  endurance  has  its  limit. 

The  gases  became  so  overpowering  below  that 
many  succumbed  and  had  to  be  hoisted  to  the 
deck  to  be  resuscitated  by  the  breath  of  the  storm. 
It  became  necessary  to  number  us  into  line,  that 
none  might  shirk,  checking  us  off  as  our  turn 
came  to  shovel  a  bucketful  and  hasten  to  the  air. 
Officers  and  men,  all  begrimed  into  a  common 
blackness,  would  fall  exhausted  upon  the  decks, 
to  sleep  until  roused  to  fresh  action.  Sometimes 
the  sky  would  become  overcast  and  day  seem  like 
night;  then  the  blessed  rain  would  come  in  tor 
rents  that  quelled  the  waves ;  but  the  clouds  would 
ride  on,  and  the  wind  and  the  waves,  as  if  mad  to 
have  been  checked,  would  redouble  their  fury, 
and  we  always  faced  the  storm.  The  little  wheel 
in  the  chart-house,  by  which  one  man  under  the 
direction  of  an  officer  can  steer  in  an  ordinary  sea, 
took  four,  tugging  with  their  might,  to  handle. 

The  captain,  who  was  omnipresent,  seemed  al 
ways  there,  eyes  fixed  on  the  binnacle,  signaling 


56   THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

orders  that  could  not  be  heard.  Then  Quarter 
master  Swift  would  leave  his  side,  and,  with  his 
lantern  tucked  inside  his  coat,  struggle  forth  to 
hold  the  reel,  often  returning  to  report  that  in 
stead  of  making  *two  hundred  miles  a  day,  more 
than  one  day  we  made  not  a  single  mile. 

It  was  not  a  wash  of  waves.  Great,  ugly, 
green  seas  would  pile  up  and  stand  like  moun 
tains.  Then  the  demon  Wind,  with  a  cutlass  be 
tween  his  teeth,  would  cut  the  crest  clean  away, 
and  hurl  tons  upon  tons  of  water  upon  us;  and 
when  their  repeated  assaults  were  loosening  the 
anchor  clamps  on  the  cat-heads,  we  were  obliged 
to  go  with  rope  lashings  to  doubly  secure  them. 
In  doing  this  we  lay  at  times  buried  under  tons 
of  water,  and  when  we  came  out  we  could  not 
speak  for  the  noise  of  the  tempest. 

While  all  this  was  going  on  we  were  given  ex 
tra  instruction  in  the  order  to  "Abandon  ship." 
Each  division  comprises  forty-four  men  and  two 
officers,  divided  into  two  watches.  Lieutenant 
Sherman  and  Midshipman  Todd  were  in  charge 
of  my  division,  and  they  went  from  man  to  man, 
screaming  their  orders  into  our  ears.  We  already 
knew  our  places  and  what  to  do,  but  the  general 
plan  for  the  emergency  was  explained  again  to 
each.  Should  the  moment  arrive  when  the  fires 
could  no  longer  be  controlled,  we  were  to  go  as  a 
fleet. 


THE    OLYMP/A    IN    A   TYPHOON.—"!    SAW    ONLY    THE    SURGING,    SEETHING    WATEKS, 
ENGULFING   THE   DECKS  " 


A  TYPHOON  59 

We  have  launches,  boats,  dingys,  and  catama 
rans  sufficient  to  carry  every  man  in  the  crew. 
The  sailing-launch  with  its  tall  masts  to  carry 
signals,  would  have  taken  the  lead  as  flag-ship. 
She  was  already  equipped  with  charts,  one  to  be 
given  to  the  officer  of  each  of  the  other  boats,  that 
in  the  event  of  their  being  buffeted  apart  in  the 
sea,  each  craft,  with  the  aid  of  chart  and  com 
pass,  might  make  its  own  way  to  Silver  Island. 
After  the  last  boat  should  have  cast  loose,  Cap 
tain  Reed,  with  the  lead-bound  book  under  his 
arm,  would  enter  his  gig  with  its  golden  arrow, 
and  shoot  out  for  the  new  flag-ship,  of  which  he 
would  be  the  admiral. 

The  captain,  in  a  typhoon,  is  not  the  gilded  idol 
that  stands  upon  the  bridge  on  entering  port.  Be 
grimed  with  soot  he  is  incased  in  oilskins  and  a  sou' 
wester  that  cannot  keep  out  the  damp,  and  he  is  no 
better  to  look  upon  than  an  old  salt  on  a  whaler. 

On  the  tenth  day,  when  the  storm  was  spent 
and  the  sea  was  like  oil,  when  the  fires  were 
quenched  and  the  ship  was  running  her  pre 
scribed  knots,  the  captain  called  us  to  muster. 
Stanchions  and  railings  lay  like  twisted  straws 
along  the  decks,  the  chart-house  was  stove  in  and 
partly  washed  away,  the  paint  was  battered  from 
our  sides,  and  red  rust  mingled  with  black  soot  to 
disfigure  her  still  further;  but  it  was  not  to  re 
view  these  things  he  called  us :  it  was  to  express 


6o  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

his  sorrow  at  the  loss  of  one  of  his  crew,  and  his 
pride  at  the  willingness  every  man  had  shown 
when  the  life-boat  was  called.  He  explained 
touchingly  and  briefly  that  he  could  not  sacrifice 
thirteen  men,  for  he  realized  that  it  was  hopeless 
to  go  after  him  when  we  were  every  moment 
shipping  seas. 

How  I  wish  I  could  write  something  that  would 
convey  just  an  idea  of  a  typhoon, — what  it  was 
like,  and  how  we  felt.  Four  hundred  and  forty- 
four  human  lives  were  imperiled  and  not  a  man 
whimpered. 

From  fighting  the  fire,  we  would  joyously  go 
for  a  trick  at  the  wheel,  and  although  it  was  a  tug 
that  called  for  strength  nearly  superhuman,  the 
wind  that  cut  our  breath  away  was  freighted  with 
noxious  vapors. 

O  night,  and  storm  and  darkness,  ye  are  wondrous 
strong, 

Yet  lovely  in  your  strength— 

for  you  can  pin  men  to  the  mast,  and  let  them 
sleep.  I  recall  a  night  so  dark  that  the  darkness 
could  almost  be  felt.  The  frenzied  wind  blowing 
off  the  crests  of  black  seas  was  hurling  them  hun 
dreds  of  feet  ahead  of  the  break,  and  they  stung 
me  with  biting  brine  as  I  stood  in  the  foretop  lis- 


A  TYPHOON  61 

tening  for  the  stroke  of  the  bell.  My  ear  was 
glued  to  the  speaking-tube,  yet  the  shout  that  was 
sent  up  from  the  bridge  came  to  me  in  the  faint 
est  of  whispers:  "What 's  the  matter  aloft?"  and 
though  I  could  not  hear  my  own  voice  I  screamed 
back,  "Can't  hear  the  bell,  sir;  a-1-1-1-  's  well!" 

Oh,  the  winds,  the  winds,  the  winds !  Who  can 
tell  their  story? 

Again,  I  stood  on  the  signal  yards,  but  it  was 
day.  They  screamed  and  roared,  and  yelled, 
drowning  every  other  sound.  Like  boys  creating 
new  noises  by  breathing  across  the  mouths  of 
empty  bottles,  they  cut  across  the  smoke-stacks 
and  moaned  into  their  cavernous  tubes.  Then, 
exhausted  by  their  own  fury,  they  flagged  and 
soughed  through  the  rigging,  quickening  every 
line  and  ratline  into  a  wh-h-r-r-rr-  and  a 
Rr-r-r-r-ra-rattling  that  swelled  into  melody  such 
as  no  seolian  harp  has  ever  played  before;  then, 
blending  into  a  single  note,  a  deep  monotone 
struck  masts  and  yards,  rising  and  falling,  rising 
and  falling,  like  the  blue  ocean  in  a  calm. 

It  brought  balm  to  my  weariness,  and,  looking 
down  the  slim  mast,  I  discovered  that  the  ship 
was  gone ;  I  saw  only  the  rushing,  surging,  seeth 
ing  waters  engulfing  the  decks,  and  from  my  ex 
alted  height  I  felt  like  a  bird  of  the  greenwood 
blown  out  to  sea. 


62    THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

Lieutenant  Buchanan  told  me  one  night,  when 
we  were  buffeted  against  one  another  on  the 
bridge,  that  I  would  never  meet  another  blow  like 
this,  and  men  are  wondering  how  the  ship  ever 
lived  it  through,  but  I  think  I  know. 

The  flag-ship  is  a  thing  alive.  It  has  its  parts 
and  being.  We  have  heard  it  breathe,  and  who 
will  question  that  in  Captain  Reed  it  has  both 
brain  and  soul? 

Who  has  not  watched  the  Reaper  shake  his 
sickle  in  men's  faces,  when  many  would  lie  down 
and  die,  while  one,  like  a  panther  at  bay,  would 
fight  him  off  and  live  on  ? 

That  is  why,  like  a  stormy-petrel,  the  Olympia 
rode  through  the  typhoon. 


CHAPTER  IV 

YOKOHAMA — THE      SALVATION      ARMY  —  COALING 
SHIP  — TO-MORROW 

IT  was  on  a  Sunday  morning  in  early  Novem 
ber  we  cast  anchor  in  beautiful  Tokio  Bay,  so 
written  of  by  traveler  and  sketched  by  artist,  that 
it  was  like  an  old,  familiar  scene.  The  white  sails 
of  the  mackerel  fleet  speckle  the  water  like  polka- 
dots  on  a  blue  necktie.  Fuji  Yama  stands  a  majes 
tic  background  to  the  whole  picture,  while  from 
the  American  consulate  Old  Glory  floats  with  a 
majesty  and  beauty  I  never  before  recognized  in 
his  brilliant  folds.  It  was  a  sight  that  brought 
my  heart  to  my  throat,  for  I  felt — words  can 
never  tell  that  feeling,  but  it  comes  to  every  one 
the  first  time  he  finds  himself  in  an  alien  land. 

But  a  sampan,  with  six  half-nude  figures  all 
standing  sculling  with  long  oars,  was  bringing 
our  mail,  and  I  fancied  their  stroke  on  the  smooth 
water  was  playing  a  song  my  grandmother  used 
to  sing  as  she  worked  among  the  flowers  in  her 
conservatory  at  home : 

63 


64    THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

Good  news  from  home,  good  news  for  me, 
Has  come  across  the  deep,  blue  sea, 
From  friends  that  I  have  left  in  tears, 
From  friends  that  I  '11  not  see  for  years. 

I  improvised,  and,  hastening  to  the  deck,  received 
my  letters,  while  in  silence  the  old  song  sung  it 
self  out, 

For  now  the  joyful  hour  has  come, 
That  I  have  heard  good  news  from  home. 

Whether  Sunday  comes  at  sea  or  in  port,  it 
makes  no  difference.  After  Quarters  the  bell 
solemnly  tolls,  as  the  master-at-arms  calls,  "Keep 
silence  above  the  decks  during  Divine  Service." 
Then  the  church  pennant  is  run  up  the  foremast, 
and  the  sky-pilot  brings  his  little  table  out  on  the 
starboard  side  of  the  gun-deck.  Attendance  is 
not  compulsory.  The  captain  generally  is  in  evi 
dence;  and  just  enough  other  officers  to  set  an  ex 
ample  for  the  men,  occupy  chairs  along  the  sides, 
while  four  mess  benches  are  quite  sufficient  to 
seat  the  rest  of  the  congregation.  The  sermon 
is  never  long,  and  for  music,  "Anchored"  and 
other  songs  of  the  sea  are  interspersed  with  good 
old  Methodist  hymns,  and  are  sung  in  or  out  of 
tune  to  the  accompaniment  of  mandolin  and  gui 
tar. 


YOKOHAMA  65 

Apropos  of  the  importance  of  the  captain  being 
present  at  Divine  Service,  a  reminiscence  relates 
how  a  captain  being  late  one  morning,  the  chap 
lain  (an  Episcopalian)  after  waiting  for  what  he 
considered  a  reasonable  length  of  time,  began  in 
an  ecclesiastical  voice,  "The  Lord  is  in  His  holy 
temple,"  when  suddenly  the  cabin  door  flew  open 
and  the  captain,  half  uniformed,  his  face  a  mirror 
of  indignation,  yelled,  "Sky-pilot  ahoy!  I  want 
you  to  distinctly  understand  the  Lord  is  not  in 
His  holy  temple  until  I  am  seated." 

During  church  hour  the  lamp  burns,  but  smok 
ing  is  restricted  to  the  spar-deck  and  forecastle. 

When  we  left  Hawaii,  every  last  mother's  son 
of  us  was  in  the  fourth  conduct  class;  but  after 
the  fire  the  captain  wiped  off  the  slate  and  put  us 
all  in  the  first  class. 

Ship  conduct  is  rated  in  classes.    There  are : 

A  Star  Class:  That  means  anything  you  ask 
for ;  but  you  have  to  grow  wings  before  you  can 
get  into  it. 

First  Class  entitles  you  to  draw  all  your  pay 
every  month,  and  to  enjoy  all  the  shore-leave  your 
watch  is  entitled  to. 

The  Second  Class  draw  half -pay,  and  are  re 
stricted  to  the  ship  for  twenty-two  days. 

The  Third  Class  get  shore-leave  only  every 
forty-five  days  and  draw  one  third  their  pay. 


66   THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

The  Fourth  Class  means  on  the  ship  for  three 
months  with  only  one  quarter  of  your  pay,  which 
barely  covers  mess  money  and  tobacco.  Every 
man  on  ship  must  go  ashore  at  least  once  in  three 
months. 

When  you  have  served  your  time  in  the  fourth 
class,  you  do  not  jump  to  the  first,  but,  by  slow 
degrees,  back  through  the  intervening  classes; 
thus,  if  ever  you  get  back  to  Class  One,  you  will 
have  spent  157  days  in  accomplishing  it. 

To  get  "in  the  brig"  drops  you  from  any  place 
into  the  fourth  class. 

Arriving  on  the  third  (a  date  with  an  odd 
number)  gave  the  starboard  watch  first  leave. 
That  meant  me,  and  seventy-two  hours  on  terra- 
firma ! 

Landed  at  the  English  hettaba.  Walking  up 
the  steps  and  through  the  custom-house  yard  un 
questioned,  we  found  'rickshaws  as  numerous  as 
boats  in  the  bay ;  and  need  I  note  we  each  got  into 
one  ?  Hastening  to  the  exchange,  we  doubled  our 
coin,  and  proceeded  without  delay,  to  "do"  Japan. 
The  first  day  we  stuck  to  the  baby  carts,  com 
pletely  surrendering  ourselves  to  the  little, 
brown,  two-legged  human  horses,  who,  without 
questioning  us,  probably  out  of  deference  to  our 
uniform,  landed  us  at  the  Travelers'  Rest.  I  do 
not  think  Baedeker  makes  mention  of  it,  neither 
would  I,  only  it  is  entitled  to  some  notice,  being* 


YOKOHAMA 


67 


the  first  stopping-place  in  Yokohama.  The  build 
ing  is  of  semi-European  construction,  whose  in 
terior  decoration  is  not 
of  fans  and  lanterns, 
but  of  ship  models  and 
flags,  interspersed  with 
gay-colored  pictures  of 
Jap  geisha-girls.  The 
one  in  question  is  kept 
by  Mickey  O'Herron,  an 
ex  -  man  -  o'  -  war's  -  man, 
who  deals  out  drinks, 
both  soft  and  hard,  to 
the  sea-worn  wanderers 
of  all  nations. 

While  at  the  Rest, 
some  of  the  men  grew 
so  very  fond  of  their 
'rickshaw  runners  that 
they  repeatedly  drank 
to  their  good  health, 
and  glutted  them  with 
American  beverages,  un 
til,  when  the  day  was 
ending,  there  was  to  be 
seen  in  the  streets  more 


TRAVELERS      REST 


than  one  sailor  uniform  standing  in  the  shafts, 
while  an  unconscious  Jap  lolled  on  the  cushions 
of  the  jinrikishas. 


68  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

Among  the  number  who  went  ashore  that  day 
was  the  ship's  cook.  I  recognized  him  at  mid 
night,  as  we  came  from  the  Benton  Dora.  He  lay 
curled  up  like  a  coil  of  gear,  beside  a  feeble  char 
coal-fire,  underneath  a  shelter  of  matting,  sleep 
ing  with  the  'rickshaw  runners.  There  was  noth 
ing  new  to  him  in  port ;  and  every  man  to  his  own 

fancy  for  enjoyment. 
But  this  is  the  sequel : 
instead  of  returning 
to  the  ship  on  Friday 
noon,  with  the  rest  of 
the  fellows,  he  came 
out  in  a  sampan  some 
time  in  the  night, 
and,  as  is  his  wont  on 
such  occasions,  went 
to  the  galley  and 
made  for  himself  a 
sandwich  from  canned 
corned  beef  and  dry 
English  mustard.  The  next  morning,  when 
his  assistant  went  into  the  galley  and  would  have 
removed  the  remnants  of  the  repast,  he  discov 
ered  that,  in  lieu  of  mustard,  the  cook  had  eaten 
Rough-on-Rats.  Without  giving  the  alarm,  he 
hastened  that  he  might  be  the  first  at  the  ham 
mock  of  his  dead  chief,  but  found  him  peacefully 
snoring.  To-day  he  is  at  his  post  again. 


LOLLING   IN    THE   JINKIKISHAS 


SALVATION  ARMY  69 

The  Benton  Dora  of  Yokohama  is  the  only  part 
of  the  town  that  has  escaped  European  influence. 
The  sights  one  sees  here  have  been  so  often  and 
so  well  described  that  I  may  omit  them ;  but  after 
my  first  day  ashore,  with  head  aching  from  the 
incessant  rasping  ting-a-ling  they  call  music,  I 
sought  the  barracks  of  the  Salvation  Army.  And 
right  here  is  a  fine  place  for  me  to  write  my 
first  eulogy. 

At  home  I  had  often  heard  that  the  Salvation 
Army  was  doing  good  work,  but  I  had  never  so 
much  as  given  it  a  thought.  The  branch  here 
comes  from  England,  and  the  lassies  wear  a  gray 
uniform,  which,  coupled  with  their  quiet,  win 
some  manner,  gives  them  something  of  the  ap 
pearance  of  an  order  of  nuns.  There  is  neither 
drum,  tambourine,  nor  gospel  hymns  at  the  bar 
racks;  just  nice,  clean,  warm  dormitories  with 
"comfy"  white  beds,  where,  for  a  reasonable  re 
muneration,  one  may  secure  a  decent  lodging. 
For  this  every  man  in  the  navy  should  take  off  his 
hat.  Next  morning,  as  we  came  out,  there  were 
our  'rickshaws  of  the  previous  day,  each  runner 
claiming  his  own.  We  kept  them  for  a  while,  but 
it  seemed  so  inhuman  for  those  toy  men  to  be 
trundling  great,  husky  Americans  about  that  we 
dismissed  them,  and  hired  bicycles.  I  wish  I  were 
a  writer.  I  would  begin  a  book  to-day  and  call  it 
"Wheeling  Through  Japan";  there  would  be 


70   THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

nothing  original  in  the  title,  but  the  cover-plate 
at  least  would  be  unique,  just  a  man  dressed  in 
sailor  uniform,  on  a  wheel.  I  have  seen  it. 

Our  seventy-two  hours 
up,  we  were  back  betimes, 
and  the  port  watch  went 
on  shore. 

It  is  so  cold  that  the 
mustering  uniform  calls 
for  pea-jackets.  The 
change  from  the  Islands 
here  was  very  marked; 
but  I  think  the  boys  of 
the  Pacific  Coast  are 
standing  the  weather  bet 
ter  than  those  from  Ne 
braska,  who  have  been 
cradled  in  snow-drifts.  In 
the  bay,  as  on  shore,  it  seems  to  be  one  con 
tinual  play-day.  The  cheapness  of  launder 
ing,  and  the  facilities  for  bringing  and  taking, 
have  made  wash-day  on  shipboard  a  thing 
of  the  past;  while  the  dirtiest  job  we  ever 
had  to  perform,  coaling,  has  become  the  very  po 
etry  of  the  sea,  in  which  the  prosy  Jackies  take 
no  part.  Alongside  come  bulky  lighters  with 
their  black  freight;  in  the  sampans  follow  men 
and  women,  all  in  blue  and  white,  with  their 


HICYCLING   IN    YOKOHAMA 


COALING  SHIP  71 

heads  turbaned.  They  form  themselves  into  a 
living  chain,  extending  from  the  lighters  to  the 
bunker  chutes.  The  men  shovel  the  coal  into 
pretty  grass  baskets,  that  look  as  though  they 
were  woven  for  the  holding  of  spring  blossoms. 
Each  basket  will  contain  about  a  shovelful. 
When  filled,  a  woman  picks  it  up,  tosses  it  to  the 
next,  who  in  turn  tosses  it  up  and  on,  their  arms 
moving  in  perfect  rhythm  to  the  song  they  chant ; 
and  so  quickly  do  they  perform  the  task,  it  seems 
like  magic.  I  stood  in  admiration  watching  them, 
thinking  how  very  sweet  sounded  their  song,  for 
it  is  unaccompanied  by  the  samisen,  when  Lieu 
tenant  Sturdy  roused  me  from  my  reverie  by  ask 
ing  how  much  of  the  wigwag  I  knew.  When  I 
answered  that  I  did  not  know,  he  proceeded  to 
find  out ;  and  when  it  proved  to  be  only  seven  let 
ters,  he  set  me  to  learn  the  other  nineteen.  The 
result?  With  a  red  flag  bearing  a  white  square 
in  its  center  on  sunny  days,  or  with  the  colors 
reversed  on  cloudy,  I  can  communicate  as  far  as 
the  flag  can  be  seen  with  any  United  States  man- 
o'-war's-man,  just  as  simply  as  I  used  to  hold  up 
two  fingers,  signaling  across  the  school-room  that 
I  wanted  some  one  to  go  swimming  with  me. 

Just  as  the  port  watch  was  returning  from  its 
seventy-two  hours'  leave,  two  of  our  guns  were 
fired.  I  asked  Andy  why  they  saluted  the  port  on 


72    THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

return,  and  not  us  ?  He  pointed  toward  the  Bund 
and  at  the  signal  on  the  Homoka  lightship,  and 
told  me  they  had  sighted  an  American  mail,  and 
that  it  was  up  to  us  to  proclaim  it  to  all  Americans 
in  Yokohama. 

"Another  mail !"  It  made  me  so  happy  that  I 
walked  to  the  rail  and  began  whistling,  "Two  Lit 
tle  Girls  in  Blue" ;  but  before  I  had  finished  the 
second  line,  the  officer-of-the-deck  came  up  and 
told  me  that  the  bo's'n  could  do  all  the  whistling 
that  was  required  on  the  ship,  and  that  my  ser 
vices  could  be  dispensed  with. 

Whew !  it  was  the  first  moment  I  had  ever  felt 
like  whistling  since  that  day  I  went  to  attend  a 
battle  of  roses  in  Santa  Cruz ;  saw,  for  the  first 
time,  a  ship  for  battle,— fell  in  love  with  her,  ran 
away,  giving  up  everything  in  the  world  to  go 
with  her.  There  had  been  so  much  to  learn  I  had 
not  noticed  that  no  one  whistled,  and  I  asked 
Andy  why,  in  the  slang  of  the  ship,  he  had  not 
"put  me  wise."  He  answered  that  old  Mac's  recipe 
was  worth  remembering:  "Youngster,  don't  do 
nothing  what's  comfortable  on  board  ship,  it  's 
agin'  orders/' 

There  is  a  sequel  to  my  whistle.  When  si 
lenced,  I  merely  stood  looking  into  the  bay.  The 
officer  could  not  stand  that,  so  he  asked : 

"What  are  you  doing?" 


TO-MORROW  73 

"Nothing,  sir/' 
"Nothing?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Nothing  at  all?" 

"No,  sir." 

"Work  all  done?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Bright  work  shined?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  well,  well,  this  is  a  sad  state  of  affairs : 
a  man-o'-war's-man  with  nothing  to  do.  Count 
the  sails  on  the  bay,  and,  when  you  get  through, 
come  and  report  to  me  how  many  there  are." 

Grumbling  under  my  breath,  I  stood  looking 
over  the  hammock  netting.  Finally  I  saw  the 
mail-boat  coming;  I  caught  the  rhythm  of  the 
oars  and  applied  it  to  my  turbulent  spirits,  and 
just  as  the  sampan  came  alongside,  I  walked,  def 
erentially,  up  to  the  officer-of-the-deck,  saluted 
him,  and  said : 

"There  are  seven  thousand  and  eleven,  sir." 

He  could  not  question  the  statement — for  nei 
ther  he,  nor  any  other  man  living  could  any  more 
count  those  sails  than  he  could  count  the  stars  in 
the  Milky  Way. 

Familiar  as  the  picture  has  become,  it  always 
amuses  me  each  noon  to  see  the  officer-of-the-deck 
officially  "fed."  The  ship's  cook,  in  a  white 


74    THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

blouse,  carrying  a  bowl  of  soup  in  one  hand,  and 
a  plate  with  a  sample  of  meat  in  the  other,  comes 
on  deck  and  presents  it  to  him ;  sometimes  he  only 
tastes,  but  in  the  colder  climate  the  bowl  is  gener 
ally  drained.  This  is  by  no  means  the  officer's 
dinner,  but  one  of  his  duties;  he  must  each  day 
know  that  the  soup  and  meat  are  up  to  the  stan 
dard. 

The  great,  beautiful,  landlocked  Yedo  Bay, 
with  its  magnificent  fortifications  right  in  the 
channel,  seemed  as  secure  a  harbor  as  one  could 
well  imagine ;  but  when  we  steamed  twelve  miles 
south  and  saw  no  sign  of  a  dry-dock,  but  turning 
landward  made  straight  for  the  bluffs,  I  felt  that 
a  catastrophe  was  imminent.  However,  to  my 
astonished  delight,  the  cliff  opened  and  we  rode 
into  Yokosuka  Bay,  an  inlet  from  Yedo.  It  is 
not  only  landlocked,  but  it  is  cliff-bound,  sur 
rounded  and  hemmed  in  by  mountains  that  slope 
back  from  the  water,  forming  an  ideal  amphithe 
ater,  with  an  area  of  more  than  seven  thousand 
acres  surrounding  the  bay.  Here  are  the  ship 
yards,  arsenals,  and  magazines  of  Japan's  navy. 
The  bay  is  dotted  all  about  with  islands,  every  one 
of  which  that  commands  a  fire  is  equipped  with 
an  up-to-date  battery;  the  others  with  magazines 
or  barracks.  Inside  the  bay,  we  were  met  by  a 
messenger  who  directed  us  to  an  empty  magazine, 
that  was  at  our  disposal. 


II 


fOSfii 


TO-MORROW  77 

Anchoring  about  a  mile  out  from  the  docks- 
there  are  three  of  them,  magnificent  stone  affairs, 
—we  unloaded  all  of  our  ammunition,  packing  it 
on  lighters  and  towing  it  to  safety.  The  Japs  have 
not  suspected  us  for  disguised  Chinese;  but 
should  a  jar  set  off  our  explosives  during  repairs, 
it  would  be  good-by  to  their  docks,  and  death  to 
many  a  sailor. 

The  Japanese  sailor  is  by  far  the  largest  type  of 
their  countrymen  I  have  seen.  Their  uniform  is 
identical  with  that  of  the  English  navy,  the  only 
difference  being  the  lettering  on  the  cap-bands. 
(What  mushy  little  caps  they  are,  too,  compared 
with  our  jaunty  flat-tops!) 

The  excess  of  work  over  play  here  has  threat 
ened  to  "make  Jack  a  dull  boy/' 

Here  are  temples,  shrines,  and  banners  inter 
mingled  with  war  paraphernalia ;  but  the  most  in 
teresting  sight  to  me  is  a  Chinese  battle-ship  that 
was  sunk  by  the  Japs  in  the  battle  of  the  Yalu,  in 
Korea  Bay.  This  splendid  naval  battle  has  gone 
down  into  history ;  but  it  will  not  be  told  that  the 
Ching  Yuen,  which  was  sunk  with  others,  has 
been  raised  and  brought  here  as  a  souvenir  of 
what  can  be  done  in  five  hours'  fighting.  I  have 
been  all  through  her.  Inside  she  was  painted 
white,  and  the  walls  of  the  torpedo  room,  where 
sixty  Chinese  were  killed  by  a  Japanese  shell,  is  a 


78   THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

veritable  slaughter  house,  where  the  blood  of  the 
victims  bespatter  the  walls  and  encrust  the  floor 
—a  ghastly  record  of  a  glorious  victory.  But  it 
is  its  exterior  that  first  attracts:  still  in  its  war 
paint,  a  sort  of  bluish  drab,  or  drabbish  blue, 
every  hole,  scratch,  or  dent,  put  there  by  the  vic 
tors,  has  been  outlined  with  a  broad  streak  of 
white  paint. 

We  have  been  here  in  the  dry-dock  for  two 
weeks,  and  to-day  are  as  spick-and-span  as  on  the 
morning  we  sailed  away  from  San  Francisco. 
To-morrow  we  go  back  to  anchor  in  Yokohama 
Harbor,  and  there  will  be  nothing  there,  neither 
Jap,  French,  German,  English,  nor  of  any  other 
nation,  that  can  hold  a  candle  alongside  of  us— 
white  as  the  snow  on  Fuji-yama,  with  colors  flying 
from  our  stern,  the  pennant  streaming  from  the 
main  truck,  and  the  union  jack  on  our  bow — it 
never  flies  at  sea,  and  in  port  only  when  every 
thing  is  shipshape.  Surely,  never  went  a  bride 
more  radiantly  to  meet  her  spouse  at  the  altar 
than  we  are  going  to  meet  our  rear-admiral.  As 
soon  as  we  are  anchored,  the  band  from  the  Balti 
more  will  come  to  us,  and  with  it,  new  life.  Col 
ors,  even,  will  take  on  new  formality.  In  the 
morning  the  strains  of  "The  Star  Spangled  Ban 
ner"  will  accompany  the  breaking  of  the  flag, 
while  at  sunset  it  will  be  "Hail,  Columbia." 


CHAPTER  V 


SNOW  —  THE  BALTIMORE—  A  REAR-ADMIRAL- 

NEW  YEAR'S  DAY 


A~^L  night  long,  unceasingly,  in  feathery 
flakes  the  snow  had  fallen.  At  daybreak  I 
should  have  thought  the  magic  of  the  night  had 
transplanted  us  to  the  Arctic,  only  there  was  the 
undeniable  outline  of  the  sacred  mountain.  It 
seemed  that  the  old  volcano  had  belched  in  the 
night,  for  the  white  of  his  crest  had  run  down 
over  his  sides,  even  to  the  water  edge;  while  on 
the  shore  not  a  red  tile  remained.  The  steps  of  the 
hettabas  and  the  roofs  of  our  turrets  were  alike 
upholstered  in  ermine.  From  sky  to  sea  it  was 
one  great,  undulating  drift  of  snow.  Specks  of 
emerald  breaking  through,  told  where  the  dwarf 
pines  were  buried,  while  streaks  of  crimson  and 
gold  pricked  out  the  outline  of  temple  and  towers. 
I  had  never  thought  to  realize  the  beauty  of  Bret 
Harte's  snow  picture  in  "The  Outcasts  of  Poker 
Flat."  /  cannot  write  about  it;  but  I  have  seen 
snow. 

79 


So   THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

The  crisp  air  is  invigorating ;  but  the  shoveling 
of  snow  from  the  decks  has  a  tendency  to  take  the 
poetry  out  of  things,  and  I  am  bothered  about 
the  poor  naked  devils  who  live  on  the  water.  How 
is  a  handful  of  charcoal  burning  in  a  tea-cup  go 
ing  to  keep  them  from  freezing  to  death? 

"When  Music,  heavenly  maid,  was  young,"  she 
took  no  more  joy  into  early  Greece  than  the  brass 
band  that  came  with  other  belongings  of  a  flag 
ship,  to  us  from  the  Baltimore.  It  plays  twice  a 
day,  and  in  the  evening  it  is  a  full  orchestra,  to 
whose  strains  we  while  away  the  dog-watch  in 
waltz,  hornpipe,  or  cake-walk,  as  the  tune  invites. 

Last  Thursday,  November  28,  was  Thanksgiv 
ing  ;  we  had  turkey  on  board,  and  behaved  like  the 
Americans  that  we  are. 

Yesterday,  the  Baltimore  signaled  to  us  for 
permission  to  get  under  way.  Granted,  the  boVn 
piped,  "A-l-1  h-a-n-d-s  on  deck  to  cheer  ship!" 
From  the  captain  and  the  bandmaster,  down  we 
came.  The  Jackies  on  both  ships  stood  on  the 
rails  or  went  into  the  rigging.  From  the  main 
truck  of  the  Baltimore  streamed  a  "homeward- 
bounder."  It  is  a  pennant  two  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  long.  At  its  tip  a  bladder  is  attached  to  keep 
it  afloat  when  it  dips  to  the  sea.  The  homeward- 
bounder  has  its  superstitions  too  sacred  to  write ; 
but  it  is  the  talisman  that  will  carry  the  ship 


> 


Tilt-.    BMflStORK    HOMEWARD    HOUND 


THE  BALTIMORE  83 

through  wind  and  storm,  until  "Safe,  safe,  at  last, 
the  harbor  passed,"  she  will  anchor  in  San  Fran 
cisco  Bay. 

I  do  not  quite  retain  the  picture;  for  "Auld 
Lang  Syne"  from  the  quarter-deck  sounded  so 
startlingly  new  to  me  that  everything  else  became 
subdued  to  my  wondering  where  and  when  I  had 
ever  heard  it  before.  But  my  memory  could  mus 
ter  nothing  but  my  first  night  in  a  little  white  al 
cove,  where  I  cried  myself  to  sleep  after  mother 
had  left  me  at  Tyler  Hall ;  and  when 
the  last  note  of  the  blessed  song 
climbed  the  masts,  and  the  Balti 
more  rode  alongside,  the  band 
struck  up  "Home  Sweet  Home." 
It  was  a  signal  for  every  man  on 
the  Baltimore.  Their  cheering 
drowned  every  other  sound,  while, 
from  excess  of  joy,  they  swung 
their  caps  and  threw  them  over 
board.  It  was  said  that  the  bay 
was  blue  with  them.  I  do  not 
know.  There  was  a  mist  came  in 
just  then,  that  made  everything 
uncertain,  except  that  the  men  of 
the  Baltimore  were  going  home, 


THE 

"HOMEWARD- 
BOUNDER" 


84    THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

while  we  are  anchored  here  for  three  long,  long 
years. 

A  REAR-ADMIRAL  came  on  the  Coptic,  and  this 
morning  an  escort  met  him  at  the  Grand  Hotel, 
and  brought  him  to  the  ship.  Of  course,  every 
one  was  dressed  in  his  best,  the  band  was  on  the 
spar-deck,  the  officers  awaited  him  at  the  star 
board  gangway,  the  sailors 
stood  attention,  the  marines 
presented  arms.  As  the 
launch  touched  the  gangway, 
the  boYn  piped  the  side,  six 
Jackies  fell  in,  forming  an 
aisle  at  the  top,  and  as  the 
admiral  stepped  into  it  the 
whistle  was  answered  by  two 
rolls  of  the  drum— the  last 
rattle  of  which  mingled  with 
the  flare  of  trumpets,  that 
lustily  played  "Hail  to  the 
Chief."  The  Commander-in- 
Chief  saluted  the  ship.  The  captain  and  flag- 
lieutenant  stepped  forward  to  greet  him,  escort 
ing  him  aft  to  his  quarters,  while  a  rear-admiral's 
salute  (thirteen  guns)  silenced  the  music  of  the 
band.  While  the  salute  1  was  firing,  the  pennant 

1 A  national  salute    ...  21  guns.     A  vice-admiral's  salute  .  15  guns. 
An  admiral's  salute.  .  17  guns.     A  rear-admiral's  salute  .  13  guns. 


THE    REAR-ADMIRAL 


A  REAR-ADMIRAL 


was  hauled  down  and  the  flag  run  up.  A  rear- 
admiral's  flag  is  a  blue  field  with  two  white  stars 
upon  it.  An  admiral's  flag 
is  the  only  flag  that  ever 
floats  at  night ;  but  at  sea,  or 
in  port,  through  all  kinds  of 
weather,  so  long  as  we  carry 
an  admiral,  that  flag  will 
proclaim  it.  At  night,  and 
at  sea,  it  will  be  not  much 
larger  than  a  cigar  box ;  but 
it  will  bear  two  stars,  and  all 
the  glory  that  goes  with  them. 

Andy  tells  me  that  although  the  captain 
has  lost  his  pennant,  none  of  his  glory  has 
gone  with  it :  he  is  still  the  grand  mogul  of 
the  ship.  The  rear-admiral  has  command 
only  of  the  fleet,  and  will  probably  give  instruc 
tions  to  our  captain  in  writing,  as  formally  as  he 
will  to  any  other  ship  in  the  squadron. 

Until  to-day,  I  have  honestly  believed  that  the 
only  being  in  America  (off  the  stage)  that  could 
outshine  a  man-of-war's  captain,  with  his  cocked 
hat,  gold  lace  and  epaulets,  was  the  captain  of  the 
marines;  but  the  vision  of  a  rear-admiral  pales 
them  all.  In  all  his  glory,  I  can  liken  him  to  noth 
ing  but  a  gold-plated  Knight  Templar. 

For  six  months  we  have  worn  U.  S.  F.  S.  Olym- 
pia  on  our  hat-bands,  but  this  will  be  the  first 


86   THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

night  we  have  slept  on  a  real  full-fledged,  com 
pletely  equipped  flag-ship. 

From  ancient  custom  the  captain  is  still  called 
"the  skipper";  the  doctor  is  called  "Microbes"; 
the  carpenter,  "Chips";  the  chaplain,  "Sky-pilot," 
etc.,  and  because  the  admiral  has  nothing  to  do 
with  our  ship  he  is  nicknamed  "the  Passenger." 

A  conscientious  fulfilment  of  duty  seems  to  be 
the  life-aim  of  every  officer  of  the  navy.  For  il 
lustration  I  will  report  our  doctor.  Our  crew  is 
so  provokingly  healthy  that,  for  want  of  other 
practice,  he  has  been  vaccinating  us  all  the  way 
from  San  Francisco.  It  has  become  a  regular 
routine ;  he  keeps  at  a  fellow  until  it  takes.  I  can 
not  say  how  many  times  I  have  been  slashed ;  but, 
just  as  many  as  it  is,  that  many  times  have  I  thor 
oughly  washed  it  off  with  alcohol,  and  saved  my 
self  from  the  discomfort  of  a  sore  arm. 

"The  compliments  of  the  season,"  seems  to  be 
tabooed  on  shipboard,  for  not  a  "Merry  Christ 
mas"  did  I  hear ;  but  there  was  a  good  dinner,  and 
a  free  gangway.  I  celebrated  by  going  to  a  wrest 
ling  match.  Need  not  make  note,  as  I  can  never 
forget  those  flabby  human  frogs,  nor  cease  to 
wonder  whence  comes  their  strength. 

One  of  Yokohama's  boasted  prides  is  its  police 
force ;  still  I  know  seamen  who  tell  how  they  have 
taken  their  swords  away  from  them,  tossing  them 


NEW  YEAR'S  DAY  87 

upon  the  roofs,  just  to  see  them  go  down  on  their 
knees  in  courteous  salaams  to  their  tormentors. 

My  own  experience  with  them  was  on  leaving 
the  wrestling  match  on  Christmas  night.  There 
was  a  gang  of  us,  and  as  we  walked  along  we 
heard  a  chorus  of  Japanese  jargon,  with  a  high 
note  of  undeniable,  though  not  elegant  English 
running  through  it.  Following  the  note  around 
the  corner  into  a  by-street,  there  was  Billie,  one 
of  our  sick-bay  nurses.  He  is  the  smallest  man 
on  the  ship,  and  at  that  moment  was  "All  bound 
round  with  a  woolen  string" ;  while  not  less  than 
seventeen  policemen  were  tugging,  in  seventeen 
directions,  at  the  ropes  that  bound  him,  while  Bil 
lie,  fighting  like  a  demon,  refused  to  go  with 
them.  At  sight  of  our  uniforms  they  dropped  the 
ropes  and  took  to  their  heels ;  and  Billie,  rejoicing 
in  his  liberty,  climbed  the  waterspout  of  a  two- 
story  house,  that  he  might  crow  from  its  eaves. 
Japan's  architecture  is  not  built  for  strength :  the 
spout  gave  way.  Such  a  commotion  as  it  kicked 
up !  The  inmates  rushed  out,  but  we  dragged  our 
poor  shipmate  along,  running  like  firemen,  and 
never  asking  if  his  bones  were  broken.  We 
reached  the  French  hettaba,  jumped  into  our 
boats,  and  reported  on  ship,  with  only  one  man 
marked  D.  D.  — "drunk  and  dirty." 

Ever  since  Columbus  sailed  the  seas,  there  has 


88    THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

existed  a  custom  of  ringing  sixteen  bells  at  the 
mid-watch  on  New  Year's  eve — eight  are  tolled 
for  the  departing,  eight  rung  for  the  coming 
year.  But  the  powers  that  rule  have  ordained 
that  it  shall  be  a  misdemeanor  to  ring  more  than 
eight  bells ;  nevertheless,  there  is  not  a  man  living 
who  has  been  on  ship  at  the  birth  of  a  New  Year 
who  has  not  counted  sixteen  strokes,  but  it  is  our 
only  demonstration,  and  "Nobody  says  nothing  to 
nobody/' 

Japan's  New  Year,  however,  follows  close  in 
our  wake,  and  they  certainly  make  up  for  any 
lack  of  enthusiasm  on  our  part.  Everybody  gets 
up  at  "the  hour  of  the  tiger,"--four  bells— 2  A.M., 
—dresses  in  his  richest  raiment,  and  goes  forth 
to  greet  the  earliest  dawn.  Gifts  are  exchanged, 
everybody  says  to  everybody  else  something  that 
translates  into,  "Good  luck  for  ten  thousand 
years." 

A  foot  of  snow  on  the  ground  does  not  inter 
fere  with  out-of-door  fairs,  and  it  is  wonderful 
what  a  dazzling  background  the  snow  makes  for 
the  thousands  of  lanterns  and  torches  that  come 
out  in  the  night. 

My  leave  was  for  forty-eight  hours ;  I  was  back 
on  time,  and  saw  the  officer-of-the-deck  check  my 
name  off  the  "liberty  list"  with  O.  T.  C  S.  — "On 
time,  clean  and  sober." 

We  start  for  Nagasaki  to-morrow. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  INLAND  SEA 

IF  Yokohama  was  disappointing  in  its  mod- 
ernness,  Kobe  has  more  than  made  up  for  it. 
It  is  as  Jappy  as  a  bamboo  screen,  an  appropriate 
gateway  to  the  Inland  Sea,  with  its  two  hundred 
miles  of  enchanted  waters  set  among  rocky  cliffs 
and  wooded  hills,  while  islands  as  varied  as  they 
are  numerous  rise  from  its  glassy  surface,  and 
every  spot  is  alive  with  a  diminutive  humanity. 
And  when  our  great  white  ship,  encircled  with  a 
scarlet  band  (the  crest  of  the  Asiatic  squadron), 
came  like  a  giant  among  Liliputians,  from  rice- 
field,  grove,  and  temple,  they  came  running  to 
look  upon  us. 

We  were  a  day  and  a  half  passing  through  the 
sea,  and  for  the  first  time  I  felt  a  regret  when  my 
night  watch  aloft  was  ended ;  and  as  I  came  down 
I  was  wishing  James  Lane  Allen,  the  man  who 
wrote  the  "Choir  Invisible,"  might  stand  up  there 
and  write  the  story  that  the  twinkling  lights  of 
the  lanterns  in  the  graveyards  are  telling. 

Nagasaki  proved  indeed  a  fitting  climax  to  the 

89 


90    THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

voyage.  No  matter  who  has  written  about  it, 
one  half  of  the  beauty  of  Nagasaki  Harbor  has 
never  been  told.  Every  nation  that  floats  a  ship 
has  a  representative  here,  and  the  flaunting  of 
the  various  flags,  together  with  the  firing  of  sa 
lutes,  makes  a  veritable  water  carnival,  and  yet 
amid  all  this  loveliness,  Mess  No.  3  had  troubles 
of  its  own. 

A  mess  on  a  man-of-war  consists  of  twenty- 
four  men,  and  is  run  in  this  manner : 

Uncle  Sam,  through  his  quartermasters,  issues 
monthly,  nine  dollars  in  rations  to  each  enlisted 
man.  Each  mess  has  a  cook  and  a  caterer.  The 
cook  draws  two  rations,  and  is  excused  from  all 
duties  except  drill.  The  caterer  is  elected  each 
month,  though  if  he  prove  satisfactory  to  the 
mess,  and  likes  the  job,  he  often  holds  it  for  a 
whole  cruise.  It  is  customary,  when  in  port,  in 
stead  of  drawing  full  rations,  to  take  from  the 
ship  only  the  staples,  and  one  half  in  cash.  Thus 
one  hundred  and  eight  dollars,  plus  one  dollar 
from  each  man's  pocket,  makes  a  total  of  one 
hundred  and  thirty-two  dollars,  United  States 
currency.  This  amount  is  given  to  the  caterer, 
who  spends  it  at  his  own  discretion,  rendering 
each  month  an  account  to  his  mess.  With  pro 
visions  at  Oriental  prices,  we  live  much  better 
than  at  college. 


THE  INLAND  SEA  91 

But  there  came  a  day  when  our  mess  fell  to 
grief.  It  was  just  after  pay-day.  Our  caterer 
had  drawn  our  money,  and  he  skipped  ship.  The 
consequence  was  we  had  to  go  down  into  our 
pockets  to  replenish  our  larder,  which  curtailed 
our  shore-leave,  for  what  can  a  Jackie  do  ashore 
without  coin? 

It  is  warmer  here  than  in  Yokohama,  and 
Rear-Admiral  McNair  chose  the  place  to  do  his 
first  official  stunt.  It  is  called  Admiral's  Inspec 
tion,  and  lasts  for  two  or  three  days.  Talk  about 
Sunday  morning  inspection!  By  comparison  it 
has  dwindled  into  a  pleasant  dream.  The  rear- 
admiral  and  his  staff  come  forth  as  to  battle. 
There  is  not  the  minutest  detail  of  the  ship  nor  its 
workings  overlooked.  We  have  drills  of  all  sorts 
and  kinds,  by  gun,  small-arm,  single-sticks  and 
pistols;  company  battalion,  arm  and  away,  and 
everything  else  we  can  do  with  boat,  oar,  or  sail. 
When  they  have  added  collision  and  fire-drill  to 
the  above,  a  flag-lieutenant  comes  along  and  goes 
through  everything  you  own  (excepting  your 
diddy-box).  To  one  man  he  says,  "Bring  your 
hammock,"  to  another,  "Your  gun/'  etc.  To  one 
he  said  "Fetch  your  bag."  Never  have  I  been 
able  to  keep  a  closet  or  bureau  in  order.  What 
order,  then,  could  I  be  expected  to  keep  in  a  bag? 
I  felt  the  shadow  of  the  brig  creeping  across  me 


92    THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

when  I  heard  from  my  port,  in  sotto  voce,  "Take 
mine/'  God  bless  Andy!  He  is  as  neat  and  or 
derly  as  he  is  generous.  It  was  taking  desperate 
chances,  but  the  flag-lieutenant  had  not  been  with 

us  long,  and  when  at 
my  feet  I  opened  up  that 
model  of  bags  with 
"Andy  Burns"  stenciled 
in  big  black  letters  across 
it,  the  lieutenant  said, 
"Very  neat,  Andy,  very 
neat,"  and  passed  on  as 
our  division  officer  fol 
lowed  him  and  said,  soft 
and  low,  "More  sense 
than  I  gave  you  credit  for,  but  do  not  let  it  occur 
again." 

"Sup-posey  you,"  says  all  Japandom.  At  a 
tea-house  where  they  serve  excellent  oysters  I 
made  free  to  call  one  of  the  girls  Fuji.  One  day, 
getting  there  first  and  while  waiting  for  the  boys 
to  come,  the  little  lady  came  timidly  to  me  and 
said,  "Jack  sen,  sup-posey  so,  just  you,  just  me 
talkey,  sup-posey  you  call  me  Fuji  all  right. 
Please  Jack  a-sen  sup-posey  more  sailor-man 
come  you  speakey  me  Fuji  Sen."  It  amused  me, 
and  here  on  the  ship  sometimes  just  to  while  the 
time  away  I  "sup-posey."  For  example,  suppose 


SUP-POSEY    YOU 


THE  INLAND  SEA  93 

a  captain  should  go  with  an  admiral  to  meet 
friends  and  have  a  good  time  on  shore,  and  should 
leave  his  ship  in  charge  of  the  lieutenant  com 
manding.  Then  suppose  the  said  "luff"  should, 
in  the  temporary  capacity  of  a  captain,  think  the 
lieutenant  commanding  entitled  to  shore-leave 
and  grant  it  to  him.  Suppose  such  a  thing 
(though  not  probable,  but  altogether  possible) 
should  occur,  what  would  be  the  result? 

Lieutenant-Commander  Sturdy  left  us  without 
so  much  as  a  good-by.  We  thought  him  harsh 
sometimes,  and  always  remembered  our  griev 
ance  at  the  Islands  as  being  largely  due  to  him, 
but  now  he  is  gone,  every  man  is  free  to  own  that 
though  exacting,  no  officer  was  ever  more  gener 
ous  in  the  granting  of  shore-leave. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MAN-O'-WAR  POOL 

THE  mariner  who  comes  to  Shanghai  would 
find  it  difficult  to  define  where  the  ocean  leaves 
off  and  the  river  begins,  and  many  are  the  ships 
that  ride  in  and  out  with  the  tide.  Therefore  we 
moored  stem  and  stern  in  Man-o'-war  Pool,  off 
Woo-song  Fort,  and  from  here  made  many  visits 
to  the  ancient  city.  Our  uniforms  are  a  passport 
everywhere  we  go;  still,  in  doing  old  Shanghai 
we  generally  take  a  Chinese  guide,  who  wears  a 
ribbonless  sailor's  cap.  The  sights  I  have  seen  I 
need  not  write  for  fear  of  forgetting,  but  I  want 
to  be  forgiven  for  saying  that  leprosy  had  no  hor 
rors.  To  see  living  skeletons  with  iron  bands 
about  the  neck  or  waist  chained  to  a  stone  wall, 
piteously  wailing  and  begging  for  food,  is  a  spec 
tacle  that  will  haunt  me  as  long  as  I  live. 

While  I  shall  ever  think  of  the  Canton  River  as 
a  beautiful  kaleidoscope  with  its  shifting  colors 
of  silken  sails  and  pennants,  such  display  of 
wealth  is  probably  nowhere  else  to  be  seen.  How- 

94 


MAN-O'-WAR  POOL  95 

ever,  we  have  not  spent  all  of  our  time  sight 
seeing;  we  have  been  to  Saddle  Rock  for  drill  and 
small-arm  practice,  shooting  from  the  land  at  a 
moving  target  on  the  water,  and  from  the  ship's 
boats  bobbing  on  the  waves  at  a  target  on  the 
cliffs. 

Uncle  Sam  is  more  generous  to  the  small-arm 
shooting  than  in  any  other  drill,  giving  cash 
prizes  of  five  and  ten  dollars  each.  I  have  been 
quite  a  lucky  winner,  and  am  hoping  that  when 
we  get  to  India  some  officer  will  see  fit  to  take  me 
into  the  wilds  with  him  to  shoot  his  tiger.  I  have 
always  longed  to  shoot  Japanese  pheasants,  and 
have  finally  been  gratified.  It  was  one  day  when 
in  training  for  a  boxing  match  that  is  waiting  for 
us  when  we  get  back  to  Yokohama,  that  I  was 
running  along  the  levee,  I  came  upon  some  Eng 
lish  lords  who  wore  proud  hunting  togs  and  were 
wasting  good  ammunition  in  the  willows.  The 
temptation  was  too  great  for  me.  I  asked  if  I 
might  take  a  shot.  The  result  was  I  shook  my 
trainer  and  stayed  with  the  lords  until  their  sacks 
were  well  filled  and  they  had  given  me  a  string  of 
them  for  our  mess.  I  am  almost  sorry  I  did  it, 
for,  alluring  as  the  anticipation  of  pheasant 
shooting  has  been,  the  reality  is  awfully  like 
shooting  hens  in  your  grandmother's  chicken- 
yard. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  WRECK  OF  THE  ON  WOO 

waters   of   the   Yang-tse-Kiang   River 
±     have  such  a  salutary  effect  upon  barnacles 
that  we  lay  well  into  its  mouth,  letting  them  drop 
away,  saving  Jackie  from  many  a  hard  day  at 
scraping. 

It  was  four  bells  of  the  mid-watch  on  the  thir 
teenth  of  April  when  Andy  (sans  souci)  threw 
me  out  of  my  hammock  as  he  called,  "Jack,  Jack, 
for  God's  sake  be  quick!  Lots  of  men  over 
board!" 

Thinking  my  shipmate  had  de  /eloped  somnam 
bulism,  I  caught  him  by  the  shoulders  and  shook 
him  soundly  as  I  screamed  into  his  ear,  "Wake 
up !"  It  was  only  a  moment  until  the  bo Yn's  pipe 
rang  shrill  and  he  chantied  (pronounced  shan- 
teed)  "A-l-1  h-a-n-d-s  up;  A-l-1  hands  man  the 
life-boat.  Do  you  h-e-a-r  that  now !"  And  then 
all  the  search-lights  were  turned  on  and  it  was 
like  day. 


THE  WRECK  OF  THE  ON  WOO     97 

Early  in  the  night  a  dense  fog  had  drifted  in 
from  the  ocean,  and  now  the  incoming  tide  was 
running  a  torrent  whose  angry  lashings  mingled 
with  the  shrieks  and  moans  of  dying  men.  What 
a  sight  it  was  to  behold !  The  On  Woo,  a  Chinese 
passenger  steamer  coming  from  up  the  coast  on 
its  way  to  Shanghai,  had  collided  with  a  tramp 
freight  schooner  right  at  the  mouth  of  the  river 
and  had  sunk.  It  is  estimated  that  between  five 
and  six  hundred  lives  were  lost. 

At  the  time  of  the  disaster  we  were  undergoing 
repairs  in  the  harbor;  consequently  our  ship  was 
almost  surrounded  by  barges  that  served  as  tem 
porary  machine  shops.  To  cut  lose  these  barges 
in  such  a  raging  tide  would  have  added  wreck  to 
ruin.  The  ship  was  so  hemmed  about  that  we  were 
unable  to  lower  more  than  two  quarter-boats. 
The  barges  were  manned  with  the  hope  to  rescue 
those  who  floated  past,  but  they  were  so  high 
above  the  water  that  they  saved  but  few,  while 
standing  eager  but  helpless,  watching  head  after 
head  bob  above  the  surge  only  to  be  dashed  out  of 
existence  against  the  barges'  sides. 

The  two  boats  succeeded  in  saving  thirty-eight 
lives,  four  of  them  being  Europeans.  For  a  time 
the  water  was  as  black  with  human  beings  as  I 
have  ever  seen  it  with  porpoises.  When  we  had 
hauled  as  many  into  our  boats  as  they  would  hold, 


98    THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

others  struggling  for  life  would  cling  to  our  gun 
wales  and  to  our  oars  and  would  have  swamped 
us  had  we  not  resorted  to  the  inhumanity  of  lift 
ing  the  stretchers  from  the  bottom  of  the  boat 
and  with  them  breaking  the  already  benumbed 
fingers,  thus  forcing  them  to  relax  their  last  grip 
on  life.  In  my  boat  one  man  died  after  we  had 
taken  him  in.  He  was  thrown  overboard  and  an 
other  picked  up  in  his  place. 

The  admiral  and  the  captain  gave  up  their  cab 
ins  to  the  women  and  children,  and  our  surgeons 
ministered  to  them  all. 

Day  dawned  upon  a  sorry  sight.  The  beach 
was  strewn  with  the  dead,  and  be  it  told  to  the 
shame  of  China  that  during  the  hours  we  were 
risking  our  lives  to  save  her  people  hundreds  of 
junks  lay  in  the  harbor,  yet  not  a  man  lent  a  help 
ing  hand.  In  their  belief  it  was  a  beatific  sacri 
fice  to  the  god  of  the  waters,  while  to  have  res 
cued  one  would  have  been  an  indignity  to  that 
awful  deity;  moreover,  it  is  decreed  that  if  a  man 
defy  the  water  god  when  he  asks  for  a  human 
soul,  he  must  forever  after  look  out  for  its  body. 
Thus,  should  A' fall  into  the  sea  and  B  snatch  him 
out,  A  may  go  to  B  and  demand  that  he  support 
him  as  long  as  he  lives,  because  A  would  not  have 
fallen  into  the  sea  had  the  water  god  not  called 
him. 


*£"**<  A  £"? 

OP  THE 


CIIIXESK    Jl'NK: 


KXKCl    1IO.N    OK    1'IkAlES 


THE  WRECK  OF  THE  ON  WOO   101 

For  days  after  the  catastrophe,  coolies  would 
wade  out  into  the  water,  and,  thrusting  their  long- 
burden  poles  through  the  garments  of  the  dead, 
pack  and  dump  them  in  heaps  upon  the  shore,  and 
there  the  river  pirates  came,  both  men  and  wo 
men,  and  robbed  the  corpses. 

After  the  third  day  we  fired  a  six-inch  gun  sev 
eral  times  across  the  water,  and  more  corpses 
came  to  the  surface.  Oh,  it  was  sickening ! 

The  authorities  finally  set  out  to  put  an  end  to 
the  pillage,  which  resulted  in  the  capture  of  five 
pirates.  Three  of  them  were  women,  in  the  folds 
of  whose  turbans  were  found  jewel-encircled  fin 
gers  severed  from  the  hands  of  the  dead. 

As  soon  as  captured  the  men's  cues  were  cut. 
The  details  that  followed  were  consummated  with 
a  dexterity  characteristic  of  all  of  Judge  Lynch's 
decrees. 

From  the  ship  we  could  see  them  as  plainly  as 
one  sees  a  theatrical  performance  from  a  pros 
cenium-box.  For  a  background  to  the  pantomime 
(not  a  word  was  spoken)  they  chose  a  spot  on  the 
beach  where  the  flaring-mouthed,  green  brass 
cannon  of  old  fort  Woo  Song  cast  a  frowning 
shadow.  Here  they  brought  the  culprits.  With 
hands  tied  behind  them  they  knelt  facing  the  sea, 
while  the  executioner  with  diabolical  flourishes  of 
his  sword  danced  and  pranced  about  them  until, 


102  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

wearied   by    the    exertion,    he    swung    five    fell 
swoops,  and  the  white  sand  drank  .up  the  blood— 
ugh!     I  shall  be  glad  when  we  get  away  from 
here. 


ASIATIC  STATION. 

Squadron  General  Order,         |          U.  S.  Flagship  OLYMPIA, 

Number  2.  J    Woosung,  China,  May  1,   1896. 

1.  The  Commander-in-Chief  is  gratified  to  he  able  to  express  his  warm 
appreciation  of  the  humane  spirit  and  seamanlike  ability  of  the  officers 
and  men  of  the  Squadron  present  at  Woosung,  China,  on  the  morning 
of  the  thirtieth  of  April,  when,  upon  the  occasion  at  the  sinking  of  .the 
steamer  On-Wo,  thirty-eight  lives  were  rescued  by  the  OLYMPIA,  four 
by  the  YOBKTOWN,  and  one  by  the  BOSTON. 

2.  The  promptness  and  skill  of  the  officers  and  men  of  the  OLYMPXA 
came  directly  under  the  notice  of  the  Commander-in-Chief,  and  are 
testified  to  by  the  number  of  human  lives  that  were  saved.  And  while, 
owing  to  their  greater  distance  from  the  scene  of  the  disaster,  the  other 
vessels  present  were  unable  to  take  so  large  a  part  in  the  work  of  rescue, 
the  Commander-in-Chief  is  equally  pleased  to  extend  to  their  officers 
and  crews  his  congratulations  upon  the  success  of  their  efforts. 

F.  V.  McNAIB, 

Bear  Admiral,  U.  8.  Navy, 
Commanding  U.  8.  Naval  Force  on  Asiatic  Station. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  GREAT  WALL  OF  CHINA A  BOAT-RACE 

ETITUDE  36°  N.,  Longitude  121°  K,  on  the 
southern  coast  of  the  Bay  of  Korea,  and 
just  across  from  Port  Arthur— this  is  Chi-fu, 
where  we  get  our  first  glimpse  of  the  Great  Wall 
of  China,  an  irregular  brown  line  meandering 
over  the  hills  and  crumbling  into  the  sea. 

Most  of  our  deep-sea  drills  were  cut  out  of  this 
trip,  as  we  were  kept  busy  looking  after  the  ship ; 
she  was  playing  leap-frog  with  the  waves  all  the 
way  through  the  Yellow  Sea ;  and  Uncle  Sam  has 
figured  it  out  that  when  it  is  too  stormy  for  us  to 
fight,  the  enemy  will  be  riding  on  the  same  wave. 

From  eight  bells  until  ten  in  the  morning  the 
first  officer  takes  the  deck,  but  since  the  departure 
of  Lieutenant  Sturdy,  until  we  reached  Chi-fu, 
we  have  not  known  for  a  certainty  whom  we 
should  meet. 

Swoop !  Like  a  meadow-lark  on  a  fence-rail  he 
lit  upon  the  deck,  a  dapper  little  man  with  his  cap 
set  at  port  aft,  and  his  sword  bristling  with  au- 


104  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

thority,  we  recognized  on  sight  our  new  executive 
officer.  Colors  went  off  with  a  swing  the  Olymfia 
has  never  know  before,  and  while  the  echo  of 
"The  Star  Spangled  Banner"  came  back  from 
the  mainmast,  Lieutenant  Delano  commanded, 

"Band-master,       play 
'Nancy  Lee.'  '      Then 
to  its  rollicking  strains 
he    paced    the    deck. 
From  that  moment  he 
has  been  known  to  the 
men    as    Nancy    Lee. 
(To  nickname  an  offi 
cer  is  one  of  the  greatest  compli 
ments  a  crew  of  blue-jackets  can 
pay  him.) 

It  takes  an  admiral  to  make  a 
flag-ship.  A  captain  can  "Up 
sticks,"  but  it  is  the  first  lieuten 
ant,  or  "First  Luff,"  as  he  is 
called  for  short,  who  leavens  it 
all.  From  the  moment  Nancy  Lee  clanked  his 
heels  on  the  deck  it  has  been  like  home;  and  when 
on  Drill  Island  he  gave  the  command,  "Com 
pany  left,  form  into  line,  battalion  square,"  the 
readiness  with  which  we  executed  it  surpassed 
his  expectation.  He  swung  his  sword  high  above 
his  head  as  he  shouted,  "Bully,  bully,  bully!" 


"NANCY  LEE 


THE  GREAT  WALL  OF  CHINA    105 

Drill  Island !  It  makes  my  legs  ache  to  write  it, 
for  I  have  tramped  ten  thousand  miles  (or  less) 
over  its  rocky  cliffs  and  sandy  shores,  dragging 
field-pieces,  and  playing  soldier  like  boys  on  the 
Fourth  of  July.  Since  the  day  of  my  enlistment, 
on  an  average  of  once  a  week  we  have  gone 
through  a  drill  "Equip  for  heavy  marching  or 
der."  Each  man  runs  to  his  hammock,  unlashes, 
takes  out  his  blanket,  and  lashes  up  again ;  from 
his  bag  he  takes  an  extra  suit  of  blue  and  one  of 
white,  with  a  lot  of  other  things  prescribed,  and 
packs  them  in  his  knapsack,  and  whether  he  uses 
tobacco  or  not,  there  must  be  a  plug  brought 
along.  He  fills  his  cartridge-belt  and  buckles  it 
on,  ditto  his  canteen,  ditto  his  leggings.  In  his 
haversack  he  puts  a  plate,  cup,  knife,  fork  and 
spoon.  When  ready  with  guns,  battle-axes  and 
brush  hooks,  he  is  carrying  a  load  of  about  eighty 
pounds.  Hurrying  to  the  deck,  there  is  generally 
a  dress-parade,  a  flare  of  trumpets  and  all  would 
be  over  until  the  next  time. 

It  always  seemed  to  me  like  a  lot  of  unneces 
sary  trouble,  besides  mussing  one's  clothes  and 
soiling  blankets.  Therefore  Smithy  and  I  put  our 
heads  together  and  hit  upon  a  labor-saving  de 
vice.  From  some  crumpled  newspapers  covered 
with  the  leg  ends  of  a  pair  of  Smithy's  discarded 
blues  we  fashioned  most  creditable  appearing 


io6  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

dummy  packs,  which  we  kept  stowed  away  in  the 
hammock  netting.  It  was  a  happy  thought  all 
right,  and  enabled  us  always  to  be  among  the  first 
at  the  scuttled  butt  with  our  canteens.  But  the 
first  time  Nancy  Lee  gave  the  drill,  instead  of 
keeping  to  the  text  we  had  learned  so  well  he  or 
dered  the  boats  lowered.  A  man-o'-war's-man 
may  never  make  excuse  nor  offer  apology.  There 
was  nothing  to  do  but  to  obey  the  command,  that 
night  on  the  Island,  when  we  were  ordered  to 
"S-t-a-c-k  arms,  u-n-sling  knapsacks,  o-p-e-n." 
When  the  lieutenant  looked  at  our  packs  he  only 
smiled,  realizing  that  we  were  inflicting  our  own 
punishment.  As  we  remained  on  the  island  doing 
hard  drill  for  nearly  three  days  and  sleeping  on 
the  ground  at  night,  the  remnant  of  white  flannel 
that  represented  my  blanket  would  have  been  in 
sufficient  for  a  bureau  scarf. 

In  Chi-fu  Harbor  we  found  the  Charleston  and 
the  Yorktown.  With  the  former  we  exchanged 
men,  she  taking  the  short,  we  the  long  timers. 

We  have  had  a  most  exciting  twelve-oar  barge- 
race  between  the  Charleston  and  the  Olympia. 
The  ship's  launches  tow  the  racing  boats  three 
miles  out  into  the  stream.  The  fleet's  ships  are 
moored  so  that  they  pull  to  a  finish  between  them 
and  in  full  sight,  and  it  was  a  sight  worth  seeing. 
It  has  left  us  with  a  full  exchequer,  and  what  is 


A  BOAT-RACE  107 

still  better,  "The  Cock  of  the  Station:'  The  Cock 
of  the  Station  is  a  flag  of  purple  silk  on  which  is 
embroidered,  in  the  finest  Oriental  needleship,  a 
big  red  rooster.  Each  time  a  race  is  won  it  goes 
to  the  victor,  who  adds  a  gold  star  to  its  field. 
Had  we  failed  to  win  it  from  the  Charleston,  it 
would  have  been  left  on  the  station  and  given  to 
the  first  ship  that  won,  for  whenever  two  or  more 
of  our  ships  lie  in  the  same  harbor,  a  boat-race  is 
always  in  order. 

Betting  on  sea  sports  is  not  an  individual  mat 
ter.  Generally  the  master-at-arms  starts  out  with 
a  sack  and  a  book.  You  put  in  as  much  as  you  like 
to  risk,  and  he  writes  it  down;  all  bets  are  even, 
and  when  the  game  or  race  is  done,  one  ship  or 
the  other  takes  the  sack.  The  winners  get  two  to 
one  for  every  dollar  they  put  in,  and  the  losers 
get— left,  just  as  we  are  left  again,  for  the  "Char 
lie"  is  out  on  the  waters,  scudding  home ! 

She  left  us,  with  the  cock  of  the  station,  a  lot  of 
good  fellows,  but  most  of  all  I  wish  she  had  left 
us  her  taps. 

The  seas  over,  taps  has  always  been  "Go  to  bed, 
go  to  bed/'  excepting  on  the  Charlie.  There  came 
a  night  when  the  bugler  was  absent.  The  deck 
officer  called  on  a  cornet  player  to  sound  taps. 

"Don't  know  how,  sir,"  answered  the  man. 
"Great  guns!"  shouted  the  officer,  "Can't  you 


io8  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

play  some  kind  of  a  lullaby  that  will  tell  the  men 
to  go  to  hammocks?"  Placing  the  instrument  to 
his  lips,  he  played : 

I  'm  tired  now  and  sleepy,  too; 
Come  put  me  in  my  little  bed. 

The  captain  came  out  to  ask  what  it  meant. 
Being  told  it  was  a  substitute  for  taps,  he  said, 
"Make  it  so/'  and  so  it  has  remained  on  the 
Charleston  from  that  day  to  this. 


CHAPTER  X 

VLADIVOSTOK— THE  CROWNING  OF  A  CZAR 

THE  word  "South"  always  stands  for  hospi 
tality,  therefore  we  were  surprised  to  find  it 
to  such  a  superlative  degree  in  Russian  Siberia, 
where  icebergs  were  basking  in  May's  sunshine. 
We  are  the  first  man-of-war  to  have  visited  Vlad 
ivostok  since  the  Marion,  and  that  is  so  long  ago, 
no  one  has  been  able  to  tell  me  when.  We  were 
there  by  special  invitation,  to  witness  the  celebrat 
ing  of  the  Czar's  coronation. 

There  is  nothing  inviting  in  the  barren,  unfer 
tile  landscape  with  its  unattractive  square  build 
ings,  nor  pleasing  in  a  people  as  coarsely  dressed 
as  their  soldiers,  whose  uniforms  are  made  from 
a  material  that  resembles  the  lining  of  a  saddle 
pad.  They  are  all  of  a  dull  color,  and  all  seem  to 
be  cut  to  fit  one  man.  It  is  a  barracks  town,  so  we 
saw  little  beside  the  Army  and  Navy,  and  their 
hospitality.  Not  a  man  of  them  spoke  English, 
nor  could  we  "insky" ;  still,  we  were  made  to  un 
derstand  that  the  town  was  thrown  open  to  us. 


112  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

We  walked  into  their  houses  and  rode  in  their 
carriages.  Not  a  penny  could  we  spend  either  for 
eat,  drink,  or  smoke. 

Smoke!  That  recalls  the  Russian  cigarette  of 
San  Francisco,  an  article  of  delight  so  foreign  to 
the  real  thing,  which  tastes  and  smells  as  if  it 
were  made  from  the  clippings  of  these  fellows' 
whiskers.  If  I  had  a  barrel  full  of  them  I  could 
go  back  and  knock  Keeley  out  of  business  with 
his  Cigarette  Cure. 

Unsightly  as  the  picture  is  by  day,  the  night  of 
the  celebration  unveiled  one  never  to  be  for 
gotten.  The  harbor,  where  all  of  Russia's  ship 
ping  lay  at  anchor,  was  illuminated  in  a  manner 
that  probably  surpassed  all  the  water  carnivals 
heretofore  known.  Every  craft  in  the  bay,  bat 
tle-ship  or  fishing-smack,  from  its  truck  to  its  rail, 
was  outlined  in  varicolored  electric  lights  or  hung 
with  gaudy  lanterns.  Throughout  the  evening 
bands  played  from  their  decks  and  from  the 
shore,  and  when  it  grew  late  a  Czar's  salute  was 
fired  from  all  the  war-ships  (our  own  guns  join 
ing),  and  then  as  darkness  stole  over  the  waters 
we  espied  on  the  barren  cliffs,  line  after  line,  like 
glow-worms  crawling,  faint  lights  that  grew  and 
grew,  until,  to  the  delight  of  the  beholder, 
Russia's  great  double-eagle  blazed  out  in  electric 
lights  and  dominated  the  scene.  Although  many 


VLADIVOSTOK  113 

miles  away,  it  was  a  fitting  tribute  to  the  new 
Czar. 

Admiral  McNair,  in  expressing  his  delight  to 

the  Russian  officers,  suggested  that  there  was  yet 

one  act  necessary  to  make  our  happiness  complete 

-i.e.,  that  Russia  liberate  and  turn  over  to  us  her 

prisoners,  the  seal-packing  crew  of  the  Alert. 

Poor  devils !  They  were  a  sorry  six  that  came 
to  us,  having  been  imprisoned  for  nearly  seven 
years  they  had  not,  until  they  boarded  the 
Olympia,  heard  a  voice  they  could  understand; 
and,  according  to  their  own  statement,  their  chief 
diet  had  been  "tallow  candles."  The  messes  vied 
with  one  another  in  entertaining  them  from  Vlad 
ivostok  to  Hakodate,  where  they  fell  in  with  old 
friends  and  companions. 

Seamen  tell  you  "There  is  no  law  of  God  or 
man  north  of  43°."  Hakodate,  on  the  Isle  of 
Yezo,  in  the  Straits  of  Sangar,  is  only  one  degree 
south,  yet  shows  no  sign  of  lawlessness.  It  is  as 
green  and  crisp  as  a  bed  of  lettuce,  while  the 
pretty  little  whaling  and  sailing  craft,  with  their 
poetic  names  and  artistic  figureheads  on  each 
schooner,  make  one  long  to  shoulder  a  rifle,  jump 
on  board  of  the  Snow  Bird,  or  the  Silver  Cres 
cent,  and  sail  away  to  the  North  Pole. 

In  the  beginning  of  the  cruise,  "in  my  green, 
salad  days,"  before  we  reached  Honolulu,  I  real- 


ii4  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

ized  that  I  was  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  the  boat 
swain's  mate  in  the  after  guards,  and  I  feel  cer 
tain  that  this  same  "Boatsy  Brown"  spent  all  of 

his  sober  moments  when  off 
duty  in  studying  up  ways 
and  means  to  render  my  life 
even  more  wretched  than  I 
had  succeeded  in  doing  my 
self. 

Brown  was  a  bully  who 
had  picked  me  (one  of  the 
youngest  and  greenest  of 
the  crew),  as  a  safe  target 
for  his  malice.  Andy  (my 
instructor)  reasoned  with 
me  that  he  was  n't  worth 
notice,  and  I  kept  that 
thought  in  my  mind  until 
one  night,  during  our  first 
call  at  Yokohama,  with  oaths  I  will  not  write,  he 
finished  haranguing  me  with,  -I  'lljerk 

your  arm  out  and  beat  you  to  death  with  it !' 

It  was  the  last  strazv!  With  one  blow  I  knocked 
him  senseless  against  the  rail.  From  that  hour, 
whenever  he  spoke  to  me  it  was  in  this  manner : 
"Now,  Jack,  my  boy,  it  is  your  anchor  watch  to 
night." 

In  the  shuffle  and  deal  of  men  at  Chi-f u  we  lost 


"THE  BIG-SAILED  saow  BIRD" 


THE  CROWNING  OF  A  CZAR      115 

Boatsy  Brown.  However,  we  drew  a  character 
from  the  Yorktown.  It  was  Jack  Weir,  acknow 
ledged  the  toughest  and  the  best-hearted  man  in 
the  navy.  How  long  he  has  been  in  the  service, 
no  one  knows:  enlistment  stripes  are  an  age  in 
dex,  therefore,  Weir  refuses  to  wear  his  full  com 
plement,  and  one  might  guess  at  his  age  any 
where  between  twenty  and  eighty.  He  has  long 
since  filled  the  positions  of  coxswain  and  boat 
swain's  mate,  but  prefers  the  berth  of  a  sea 
man,  as  it  carries  less  responsibility,  and  he  has 
ceased  to  aspire  higher  than  the  fourth  conduct 
class. 

Before  his  coming  I  had  looked  upon  Purdy, 
the  captain  of  the  hold,  as  the  most  ornate  cusser 
afloat  (barring  a  certain  "Luff"),  but  the  vocabu 
lary  of  Weir!  There  never  was  on  land  or  sea 
anything  to  compare  with  it.  The  first  time  I  saw 
him  was  in  port  at  Chi-fu.  He  and  Scotty  Ross 
were  on  their  knees  abaft  the  port  gangway, 
throwing  craps.  Scotty,  a  man  so  mean  that  he 
detests  himself,  was  winning.  Weir's  cap  was 
pushed  aft,  displaying  a  face  as  scarred  and  fas 
cinating  as  a  topographical  map;  shaking  the 
craps,  he  talked  to  them— "Blanketty  blank, 
bones,  don't  refuse  me  this  time !" 

When  a  little  chap  I  owned  and  loved  a  bull- 
terrier  that  every  one  else  feared.  Weir  would 


n6  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

fight  a  buzz  saw,  and  I  'm  thinking  if  I  ever 
needed  him,  he  would  fight  for  me. 

It  is  June.  We  are  on  the  Pacific,  headed  for 
Yokohama,  and  I  feel  so  queer.  Can  it  be  that  I 
am  ill? 


CHAPTER  XI 

MAN-O'-WAR  COCKTAILS 

IT  is  two  months  since  I  wrote  the  last  chapter. 
The  ship's  surgeon  settled  my  wonderment  by 
quarantining  me  with  five  others  up  in  the  main 
mast,  where  we  spent  a  day  and  a  night  before 
coming  into  port,  and  before  reveille  on  the  fol 
lowing  morning  we  were  lowered  into  a  cutter 
and  towed  ashore. 

These  details  are  less  vivid  to  me  than  a  trou 
bled  dream;  they  were  followed  by  weeks  of 
oblivion,  for  I  was  paying  the  penalty  of  my  arm 
washings  in  the  old  vaccination  days.  It  was 
smallpox  all  right,  and  probably  contracted  in 
Vladivostok.  However,  the  contagion  did  not 
spread  beyond  the  original  six,  and  in  no  case 
proved  fatal  nor  left  us  pock-marked. 

Uncle  Sam  is  a  mother  to  his  sailors -when  they 
are  sick.  The  U.  S.  Naval  Hospital  is  situated 
on  Yokohama's  bluff  in  the  midst  of  its  most  aris 
tocratic  European  colony.  Beautiful  courts  with 
fountains  and  flowers  make  an  environment  that 
the  convalescent  is  loth  to  leave.  The  physicians 


ii8  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

and  nurses  are  both  efficient  and  attentive,  while 
every  delicacy  one  might  demand  in  a  private  san 
atorium  is  gratuitously  meted  out.  Should  the 
admiral  himself  get  ill  he  will  be  taken  to  the  Na 
val  Hospital,  but  it  will  be  impossible  for  him  to 
receive  better  care  than  that  bestowed  upon  a 
blue- jacket. 

As  I  was  leaving  the  hospital  I  met  one  of  our 
crew  coming  in.  He  said  to  me,  "Shipmate,  it  's 
up  sticks  with  me.  I  am  losing  my  mind." 

"Man-o'-war  cocktail !"  I  replied,  for  I  remem 
bered  it  was  he  who  introduced  it  to  me  when  we 
came  in  last  fall.  He  told  me  it  was  the  life. as 
surance  of  a  tenderfoot  in  a  cold  climate. 

A  man-o'-war  cocktail  is  made  by  putting  one 
can  of  condensed  milk  in  a  gallon  of  hot  water; 
pouring  one  quart  of  alcohol  over  six  well-beaten 
eggs,  adding  two  cups  of  sugar  and  some  nutmeg 
(if  you  can  get  it).  The  result  is  a  concoction 
that  tastes  not  unlike  a  Christmas  egg-nog,  but 
the  aftermath  is  very  different.  The  night  I 
drank  of  it  I  awoke  with  torture  racking  every 
bone  of  my  body.  My  legs  were  so  stiff  I  feared 
paralysis.  The  symptoms  were  so  new  to  me  that 
I  attributed  the  cause  to  the  potion  I  had  drunk, 
and  from  that  hour,  cut  it  out.  The  pains  have 
never  returned,  but  I  am  a  very  small  fraction  of 
a  ship's  crew,  and  my  withdrawal  has  in  no  de- 


'QUARANTINED    IN 


"THE  GREAT  DOIBLE-EAGLE  OF  RUSSIA " 


AT    VLADIVOSTOK  — "  WE    KOUE    IN    THEIK    CAKKIAC 


MAN-O'-WAR  COCKTAILS         121 

gree  diminished  either  supply  or  demand  for 
man-o'-war  cocktails. 

The  boys  told  me  that  after  Joe  had  been  taken 
to  the  hospital  one  of  the  black-gang  found  a  five- 
gallon  alcohol  can  half  empty  hidden  away  in  the 
coal-bunkers.  He  had  been  drinking  it  straight. 
Poor  fellow!  Word  came  next  day  that  he  had 
died  in  the  night.  I  heard  that  his  brain  was 
shrunken  and  withered  like  an  apple  with  dry  rot. 
(An  eloquent  lecture  on  alcoholism.) 

The  alcohol  question  has  an  amusing  as  well  as 
a  tragic  side.  The  old  navy  doled  out  grog  every 
day  as  a  preventative  of  drunkenness.  The  cus 
tom  was  abolished,  and  to-day  every  man  who 
comes  over  the  port  gangway  is  searched  like  a 
thief.  The  old  bravado,  "As  lief  have  the  game 
as  the  name,"  has  in  many  cases  resulted  in  petty 
larceny.  The  ship  carries  a  beautiful  mahogany 
chest  whose  key  is  kept  by  the  master-at-arms. 
From  its  recesses  he  gives  out  the  alcohol  used  in 
shellacking  the  decks.  It  is  in  this  connection  I 
recall  an  amusing  incident  which  implicates  Jack 
Caldwell,  who,  according  to  his  own  oft-repeated 
declaration  is  "The  best  little  man  on  the  ship ;  on 
the  jump  from  morning  till  night."  (His  ship 
mates  will  add,  "Always  in  a  fight,  and  always 
getting  licked.")  Well,  after  the  shellacking  of 
the  deck  is  done  there  is  always  some  of  the  mix- 


122  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

ture  left  in  the  pan.  One  day  Caldwell  conceived 
the  happy  thought  to  set  it  aside  to  settle,  and, 
carefully  pouring  off  the  top,  drank  with  a  gusto. 
Result  ?  How  I  wish  I  had  Caldwell's  picture  to 
show  you !  The  morning  following  his  drinking 
of  the  stuff  he  came  to  quarters  with  every  hair 
in  his  big  mustache  bristling.  His  mouth  was 
drawn  starboard  and  glued  there,  and  his  little 
eyes  blinked  sadly.  It  may  not  write  funny,  but 
he  was  a  sight  that  nearly  broke  up  quarters. 

About  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles  north  of 
Yokohama  there  is  a  break  in  the  coast  range. 
One  cannot  discern  it  from  the  ocean,  as  the 
walls  from  the  north  creep  in  behind  the  southern 
cliffs.  From  the  ship  it  appears  impregnable,  but 
with  a  whale-boat  flying  an  ensign,  and  our  offi 
cers  in  full  uniform,  we  one  day  pulled  toward  a 
bamboo  pole  standing  white  against  the  cliff. 
From  this  we  espied  another  bamboo  marking- 
pole,  and  yet  another.  Zigzagging  from  one  to 
the  other,  we  pulled  through  the  channel  into  the 
port  of  Kuruchinama.  (Your-a-shing-hammer, 
we  call  it  for  short.)  No  cunning  of  man  could 
ever  have  fashioned  this  place.  It  is  a  "closed 
port,"  and  we  were  not  permitted  to  step  out  of 
the  boat,  although  our  officers  were  ashore  for  a 
couple  of  hours.  It  was  an  official  visit  whose 
purport  I  never  knew,  but  the  enchantment  of  the 


MAN-O'-WAR  COCKTAILS         123 

surroundings  are  mine.  We  were  in  a  lovely  val 
ley  cradled  among  the  green  hills,  from  whose 
fastnesses  a  river  ran,  wide  and  deep,  parting  and 
meeting  again  about  a  wooded  island,  where  tem 
ple  and  lantern  rendered  it  as  charming  as  the 
parks  of  Tokio.  On  the  other  margin  of  the  river 
villages  and  fortifications  cluster  about  each 
other.  We  counted  no  less  than  six  modern  Jap 
anese  torpedo-boats  sleeping  on  the  water.  If  in 
hiding  they  are  surely  safe  "in  their  cozy  corner 
lying." 

This  visit  to  Kuruchinama  was  merely  an  in 
cident  ;  we  were  out  for  practise,  and  practise  we 
did.  If  we  are  not  now  fitted  for  any  kind  of  a 
sea  performance  we  certainly  are  for  dress  re 
hearsal.  We  have  abandoned  ship  so  often,  that 
if  the  real  thing  ever  comes  I  do  not  believe  we 
shall  recognize  it  until  water  and  provisions  give 
out. 

The  man  who  volunteers  to  fall  overboard  that 
we  may  test  the  life-buoys,  lower  the  boats,  and 
rescue  him  while  the  ship  is  under  way  in  mid- 
ocean,  is  paid  two  dollars  each  time.  It  is  Bill 
Bartley  who  generally  does  this  stunt,  and  it 
would  be  difficult  to  find  another  so  well  fitted  to 
the  role.  With  years  of  service  in  the  fourth 
conduct  class,  Bill  has  learned  the  art  of  jump 
ing  ship  and  swimming  for  life  and  shore-liberty. 


124  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

Since  leaving  Drill  Island  I  had  not  seen  my 
leggings  until  this  morning,  when  I  bid  them  in 
for  ten  cents.  It  was  lucky-bag  day.  If  you 
want  to  know  what  the  lucky-bag  is,  just  drop  for 
a  minute  anything  you  own,  and  see  how  the  mas- 
ter-at-arms  will  pounce  upon  it.  If  you  really 
cannot  get  on  without  it  you  may  go  to  him  and 
redeem  it  by  doing  ten  hours'  extra  duty ;  other 
wise  it  remains  "in 
hock"  until  the.  bag 
is  so  full  it  will 
hold  no  more ;  then, 
wherever  or  when 
ever  this  happens, 
he  brings  it  up, 
dumping  the  con 
tents  on  the  deck, 
and  a  spirited  auction  ensues.  I  have  seen  a  new 
flannel  shirt  that  cost  three  dollars  bid  in  for 
twenty-five  cents.  Also  in  a  spirit  of  fun  I  have 
known  an  odd  shoe  to  be  bid  up  as  high  as  five 
dollars;  the  owner  determined  to  have  it,  his 
shipmates  equally  bent  on  making  him  pay  for  it. 
But  there  is  always  a  lucky-bag  day  ahead,  and 
accounts  keep  pretty  even. 

The  third  of  November  will  be  the  Mikado's 
birthday  and  we  are  going  back  to  Yokohama  to 
salute  him. 


"BILL  HARTLEY,  THE  OLYMPICS  REGULAR 
'MAN  OVERBOARD'" 


CHAPTER  XII 

ON  SIGNAL  WATCH  — A  TATTOOED  MAN 

IT  is  customary  for  a  man-of-war  to  fire  a  na 
tional  salute  (twenty-one  guns)  whenever  she 
enters  a  foreign  port.  This  time  in  entering  Yedo 
Bay  we  were  requested  to  waive  the  salute,  prob 
ably  because  we  come  so  often  it  is  like  one  of  the 
family  coming  home  to  dinner. 

The  Emperor's  birthday  was  so  very  similar  to 
three  hundred  and  sixty-four  other  festivals  an 
nually  celebrated  in  Tokio  that  it  is  not  worth 
chronicling.  I  saw  their  Royal  Highnesses,  the 
Emperor  and  the  Empress — but  so  have  millions 
of  others,  and  the  pageant  impressed  me  less  than 
a  little  affair  of  my  own  that  subsequently  oc 
curred. 

I  was  on  signal  watch  on  the  after-bridge;  an 
ordinance  officer  four  feet  away  stood  looking 
shoreward  through  his  binoculars  as  the  admir 
al's  barge  rowed  straight  for  the  ship.  At  the 
proper  moment  he  commanded :  "Bugler,  call  the 


126  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

guard/'  Then  all  the  red  tape  required  to  get  an 
admiral  aboard  was  unwound.  This  accom 
plished,  Lieutenant  Dorn  came  at  me  fairly  foam 
ing  at  the  mouth,  "What  are  you  doing  on  the 
bridge?"  he  roared. 

"I  am  on  signal  watch,  sir." 

"Then  why  did  you  not  report  the  admiral's 
launch  coming?" 

"Because  you  saw  it,  sir." 

"Because  /  saw  it!  What  right  have  you  to  say 
I  saw  it?" 

"I  saw  you  looking  at  it  through  your  glasses, 


sir." 


"You  don't  know  that  I  was  looking  at  the  ad 
miral's  barge;  you  have  no  right  even  to  think 
what  I  am  looking  at.  Your  duty  was  to  have  re 
ported  to  me  what  you  saw  coming  toward  the 
ship.  Failing  to  do  so,  you  shall  answer  to  the 
stick1  on  Saturday  morning.  I  put  you  down  for 
carelessness,  disobedience,  neglect  of  duty,  and 
insolence." 

I  swallowed  my  rage,  as  I  have  done  many  a 
time  and  oft  since  I  have  worn  this  uniform,  and, 
in  fancy,  saw  myself  go  down  into  the  brig  for 
thirty  days.  The  brig  means  handcuffs  or  ankle 
irons,  a  diet  of  two  hardtacks,  and  a  tumbler  of 

1  Answer  to  the  stick:  or  called  to  the  mast  where  the  officer-of- 
the-deck  receives  the  men  who  wish  to  speak  with  him. 


ON  SIGNAL  WATCH 


127 


water  three  times  a  day,  with  full  rations  every 
fifth  day.  I  have  seen  men  come  out  of  the  brig 
looking  like  the  end  of  a  forty-days'  fast  in  a 
monastery.  I  have  seen  men  in  for  three  days 
wearing  double  irons.  They  looked  like  pirates. 
Their  crime  was  smoking  out  of  hours. 

The  brig  is  losing  popularitv  since  Nancy  Lee 
came,  his  motto  being: 
"Give  sailors  plenty  of 
work    and    plenty    of 
feed." 

To  return  to  my  own 
case.  On  Friday  night 
Lieutenant  Dorn  sent 
for  me  and  gave  me  a 
kindly  talk,  winding  up 
with  the  .promise  that 
he  would  either  make  a 
sailor  out  of  me  or  kill 
me.  I  was  on  the  shore 
list  for  the  next  morning,  but  for  reasons  of  my 
own  tarried  on  the  ship.  This  same  officer,  notic 
ing  me,  asked  why  I  was  there. 

"Broke,  sir,"  I  answered. 

He  told  me  to  go  to  his  room  and  where  to  find 
ten  dollars,  which  I  was  to  take,  get  ashore  as 
quickly  as  possible,  and  not  to  forget  to  return  it 
on  the  next  pay-day. 


"IN  THE  BRIG" 


128  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

You  may  be  sure  I  did  return  it,  and  now  that  I 
have  a  berth  on  the  admiral's  launch  I  will  always 
be  out  when  it  is.  And  I  have  learned  this :  a  man 
may  be  your  neighbor  even  though  he  employ  a 
different  tailor. 

Periodically  a  tattoo  fever  breaks  out  on  ship. 
It  is  raging  now,  and  has  left  me  with  a  pretty 
little  geisha  girl  on  my  port  forearm.  Speaking 
of  tattooing  recalls  the  finest  specimen  I  have 
ever  seen.  It  was  during  the  warm  season  when 
we  were  wont  to  go  to  Homoca, 
swimming.  I  saw  a  Japanese  gentle 
man  there  whose  whole  body,  ex 
cepting  his  head  and  hands,  was 
completely  incased,  as  it  were,  in  the 
skin  of  a  dragon.  Sailors  are  re 
stricted  to  two  colors,  red  and  blue, 
they  being  least  likely  to  produce 
blood-poisoning;  but  this  man  was 
done  in  so  many  colors  that  when  his 
body  was  wet  and  shining  I  could 
compare  him  to  nothing  else  than  a 
great  satsuma  jar  with  a  human 
head.  His  loin-cloth  was  always  a  bit  of  rare 
oriental  silk  that  contrasted  harmoniously  with 
the  dragon  hues.  It  made  me  wish  that  Adam 
and  Eve  had  foregone  the  apple  and  that  we  had 
all  been  born  with  an  ornamental  epidermis. 


A   GEISHA  GIRL 


A  TATTOOED  MAN  129 

Think  what  a  lot  of  trouble  and  expense  it  would 
have  saved ! 

Immodest  ?  not  a  bit  of  it.  He  looked  fit  to  go 
to  court. 

The  snow  that  came  with  the  glamor  of  new 
ness  last  year  was  earlier  this  season  and  seemed 
cold,  dull,  and  prosaic.  Filled  with  emotions  kin 
dled  of  these  conditions,  alone  one  Saturday  night 
I  strolled  through  Bloodtown.  From  across  the 
street  the  hum  of  English  voices  floated  out  upon 
the  night  air.  Forgetting  that  our  glorious  na 
tion  ever  had  a  mother,  I  crossed  over  and  threw 
open  the  door  whence  issued  the  sounds.  Biff! 
Bang!  I  was  out  in  the  mud  and  the  snow,  my 
nose  bleeding,  my  lips  cut  and  my  best  uniform  so 
soiled  and  bespattered  that  I  was  unfit  for  presen 
tation  at  the  Salvation  Barracks. 

I  was  the  victim  of  a  whole  squad  of  English 
blue-jackets.  How  I  prayed  for  a  gang  of  our 
own,  but  they  came  not !  Recognizing  the  futility 
of  an  attempt  to  redress  my  wrongs  single- 
handed,  I  strolled  back  to  the  hettaba,  where 
from  excess  of  wrath  and  mortification  I  sat 
down  and  cried, — cried  as  only  a  defeated  man 
can  cry.  My  tears  spent,  I  sat  waiting  for  the 
first  boat  returning  to  the  ship,  when  I  heard  an 
other  song.  It  was  a  good  old  gospel  hymn, 
hummed  soft  and  low,  its  aspirated  h's  proclaim- 


130  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

ing  the  singer  an  Englishman,  and  the  lights  on 
the  hettaba  proving  him  to  be  a  sailor.  What  did 
I  do?  I  am  ashamed  to  write  it,  for  I  well-nigh 
beat  the  life  out  of  him. 

Next  morning,  after  church,  our  sky-pilot  an 
nounced  that  he  had  received  word  from  the 
chaplain  of  an  English  war-ship  that  one  of  their 
men,  while  returning  from  a  meeting  of  the 
Y.  M.  C.  A.,  had  been  cruelly  beaten  by  a  U.  S. 
man-o'-war's  man.  Our  chaplain  made  it  a  point 
that  he  did  not  think  it  was  done  by  one  of  the 
Olympia's  boys,  mentioning  it  only  because  it  had 
been  brought  to  his  notice.  However,  had  he 
known  it  was  I,  there  was  nothing  for  him  to  do. 
When  a  sailor  is  on  shore  he  is  his  own  boss — His 
own  boss!  I  am  just  awaking  to  that  fact.  It 
was  the  desire  to  be  my  .own  boss  more  than  any 
thing  else  in  the  world  that  sent  me  to  sea.  Oh, 
the  irony  of  it ! 


CHAPTER  XIII 

A  BANQUET 

1VTOVEMBER  was  drawing  to  a  close  when 
JL\|  we  left  Yokohama,  again  passing  through 
the  enchanted  Inland  Sea  on  our  course  to  Naga 
saki.  Our  anchor  chains  had  not  ceased  rattling 
when  we  espied  the  Russian  battle-ship,  Rurik,  in 
port.  It  was  the  chance  of  our  lives;  it  was  an 
opportunity  to  repay  in  a  measure  some  of  the 
hospitality  showered  upon  us  when  in  Vladivo 
stok. 

Purdy  proposed  that  we  play  "Uncle  Tom's 
Cabin/'  or  "Twelfth  Night,"  for  them,  but  after 
long  and  mature  deliberation  it  was  decided 
that,  owing  to  the  differences  of  dialect  in  the 
two  navies,  the  only  appropriate  entertainment 
must  be  one  to  appeal  equally  to  guest  and  host. 
Plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face.  Nothing  but  a 
banquet. 

The  decision  formed,  our  captain  granted 
twenty-four  hours'  shore  liberty  to  one  hundred 
picked  men  from  the  Olympia.  A  corresponding 


132  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

number  of  invitations  were  sent  to  and  accepted 
by  the  blue-jackets  of  the  Rurik. 

Then  came  the  appointing  of  our  committees ; 
committee  on  hall  decoration,  music,  and  refresh 
ments.  Not  a  detail  was  slighted,  and  when  the 
auspicious  evening  arrived  we  met  at  the  dock  in 
single  files,  there  forming  into  double  lines,  two 
by  two,  a  Russian  and  an  American.  Thus  we 
marched  to  the  scene  of  festivities.  The  bands 
from  both  ships  preceded  us,  and  occupied  the 
stage,  above  whose  central  arch  the  flags  of 
America  and  Russia  were  draped  gracefully  amid 
the  feathery  branches  of  Japanese  ferns. 

Alternately  the  national  airs  of  the  two  great 
nations  mingled  with  the  mirth  and  laughter  of 
the  feast.  We  had  two  hired  interpreters,  and  the 
toasts  exchanged  were  all  couched  in  terms  of  ex 
travagant  praise.  (In  secret  pride  each  Yankee 
looked  upon  the  spread  of  dainty  viands,  contrast 
ing  them  with  the  coarse  food  we  had  partaken  of 
in  the  homes  of  our  guests.) 

It  was  Chalmers  who  suggested  the  favors,  and 
it  was  he  who  set  the  example  for  their  proper 
disposal.  At  each  place,  alternating,  was  a  tiny 
American  or  a  Russian  flag.  As  soon  as  seated, 
Chalmers  pinned  a  Russian  flag  above  his  heart. 
The  spark  caught;  in  a  twinkling  every  flag  on 
the  table  rested  upon  an  alien  bosom,  and  all  went 


A  BANQUET 


133 


merry  as  a  marriage  feast,  when  suddenly,  all  un 
announced,  a  great  whiskered  "Insky"  arose  with 
a  wine-glass  in  his  hand.  He  was  excitedly  de 
claiming,  and  before  any  one  had  caught  his  pur 
port  he  had  shattered  the  goblet  and  spilt  the 
wine,  torn  the  American  ensign  from  his  breast, 
and  would  have  trampled  upon  it  had  not  his 
American  partner  antici 
pated  the  act  and  felled 
him  to  the  ground. 

It  was  the  signal.  Ev 
ery  man  tore  off  his  fa 
vor,  and  if  there  was  in 
the  assembly  an  Ameri 
can  brain  clouded  with 
the  red  of  the  wine  it 
cleared  when  his  flag 
was  insulted.  A  bloody 
man-to-man  war  ensued. 
We  fought  until  we  overflowed  the  hall  and 
spilled  into  the  streets.  The  band-men  fled  in 
terror.  The  authorities  grasped  the  situation 
and  closed  all  of  the  public  houses. 

The  first  fray  over,  memory  recalled  the  un 
finished  dinner,  and  all  night  long,  singly  and  by 
the  dozens,  guests  and  hosts  returned  to  the  ban 
quet-hall,  and  when  the  sun  came  dripping  out  of 
the  east  he  saw  a  thoroughfare  of  Nagasaki  be-- 


TAR   AND    BANJO 


134  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

sprinkled  with  sleeping  sailors  and  with  flags 
like  confetti  after  Mardi  Gras. 

Nothing  to  say,  my  darling ; 
Nothing  at  all  to  say. 


LIKE  last  year,  Christmas  consisted  of  roast 
turkey  and  a  free  gangway. 

A  week  later  I  was  alone  on  shore  fighting  the 
ghosts  that  always  cluster  about  my  life's  mile 
stones,  when  I  grew  to  watching  the  lights  come 
on  in  the  swinging  signs,  flashing  invitation  to 
the  sailorman. 

There  were  the  Main  Top,  Fore  Top,  Naval 
Club,  Forecastle,  Flag  of  All  Nations,  Man  at  the 
Wheel,  and  The  Land  We  Live  In. 

From  an  open  space  above  the  swinging  screen 
of  the  last  came  the  most  doleful  chorus,  the  most 
melancholy  rendering  of  the  "Star  Spangled 
Banner"  I  ever  expect  to  hear. 

Recalling  my  little  experience  in  Yokohama,  I 
warily  chinned  myself  until  I  could  look  over  the 
green  baize.  There  was  Bill  Phelan  (three  sheets 
in  the  wind)  with  a  club  in  his  hand  and  a  squad 
of  English  blue-jackets  backed  against  the  bar, 
their  spokesman  protesting,  "But  we  don't  know 
your  bloody  'ymn,  don't  you  knaw." 

"Never  mind,  you  bloody  devils,  you  '11  know  it 


A  BANQUET  135 

all  right  when  I  get  through  with  you.    Now  all 
together.    'Oh,  say,  can  you  see— 

This  was  too  good.  I  ran  back  to  the  Naval 
Club  and  returned  with  an  audience  that  crowded 
for  standing  room  in  the  saloon.  After  they  had 
mastered  "The  Star  Spangled  Banner"  the  audi 
ence  turned  in  and  helped  Bill  out  with  his  enter 
tainment.  We  taught  them  to  sing  "Hail,  Colum 
bia/'  "Yankee  Doodle,"  and  "America."  The  last 
being  set  to  the  same  music  as  "God  Save  the 
King,"  was  such  a  howling  success  that  we  con 
cluded  it  was  a  fitting  finale  for  the  evening's  en 
tertainment.  Besides,  the  singers  were  so  hoarse 
that  their  voices  grated,  and  midnight  was  strik 
ing.  We  allowed  them  to  treat  the  crowd,  drink 
ing  with  us  to  the  good  ship  Olympia  and  to  the 
New  Year  1897. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

HONG-KONG — A  THIEF 

TO  my  benighted  intellect  Hong- Kong  had  al 
ways  been  a  Chinese  metropolis.  Conceive, 
then,  the  shifting  my  gray  matter  had  to  undergo 
when  I  found  an  island,  seven  by  two  miles  in  ex 
tent,  lifting  a  rocky  promontory  to  a  height  of 
two  thousand  feet  above  the  estuary  of  the  Can 
ton  River. 

Victoria,  its  chief  port,  has  a  colossal  statue  of 
the  good  English  queen  Victoria  standing  in  the 
square,  and  is  as  British  as  a  monocle.  In  short, 
it  is  a  European  city  with  Oriental  embellish 
ments,  chief  among  them  being  its  police  force, 
composed  mainly  of  Sikhs  and  Chinese.  And 
once  let  a  Chinese  cop  lay  on  hands,  it  is  all  up 
with  you.  There  is  Henderson,  a  great  big  State 
of  Maine  man,  who  employed  his  shore-leave  in 
breaking  up  a  drinking  house.  In  consequence  he 
is  at  present  serving  a  ninety  days'  sentence  in 
packing  shot  in  a  Hong-Kong  prison.  Uncle  Sam 
never  interferes  with  the  fate  of  his  subjects 
when  they  disregard  the  laws  and  rights  of  for- 


HONG-KONG  139 

eigners.  (A  slip  of  my  pencil:  we  are  the  for 
eigners.  ) 

Going  out  to  Happy  Valley  is  like  visiting  the 
Cliff  House,  Sutro's,  Burlingame,  Tanforan  and 
the  Presidio  golf  links  all  in  one.  It  is  the  play 
ground  of  Hong-Kong,  and  as  after  play  comes 
rest,  it  is  befitting  that  the  cemeteries  are  close 
by.  In  one  of  them  lie  the  mortal  remains  of  Mil 
ler.  The  sexton,  in  pointing  out  the  graves  of 
celebrities,  always  says,  "Here  lies  Boatswain 
Miller,  the  Ananias  of  America's  Navy."  The 
epithet  in  no  degree  reflects  disparagingly  upon 
the  memory  of  the  departed,  but  serves  rather  as 
an  incentive  for  such  men  as  Seaman  McCue, 
Scotty  Ross,  Jack  Weir  and  others  whose  tales  of 
the  sea  are  as  varied  as  they  are  interesting. 

Of  Miller,  be  it  known  that  had  he  blown  a 
boatswain's  pipe  as  many  years  as  he  spun  yarns 
about,  he  must  have  spent  a  century  on  the  deep, 
while  the  stories  ascribed  to  him  would  fill  a  vol 
ume.  Two  of  them  I  am  going  to  write  lest  I  for 
get  them. 

Once  upon  a  time,  long  years  ago,  Miller,  who 
was  boatswain  of  the  Franklin  carrying  the  flag 
of  Admiral  Farragut,  fell  overboard  from  a  ship 
that  drew  eighteen  feet  of  water.  The  life-pre 
servers  were  cast  to  him,  and  in  a  twinkling  he 
came  dripping  up  the  gangway  with  a  grating  un- 


140  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

der  each  arm.  The  skipper  was  the  first  man  he 
met,  and  in  excited  accents  he  said,  "Captain,  if  I 
have  n't  been  treading  bottom  for  the  last  half 
hour  you  may  call  me  a  -  -  liar." 

This  is  what  they  say.  But  the  story  he  told 
most  often  was  of  a  time  when  he  was  in  Cape 
Town.  Entering  a  saloon,  he  recognized  at  the 
bar  a  number  of  British  officers.  Being  of  a  retir 
ing  nature,  he  was  quietly  backing  out,  when  one 
of  them  recognized  him  and  called  out,  "Come 
in,  come  in."  He  begged  them  to  excuse  him, 
reminding  them  that  they  were  her  Majesty's 
commissioned  officers,  while  he  was  merely  Boat 
swain  Miller  of  the  United  States  Navy.  With 
minutial  detail  he  was  wont  to  repeat  what  each 
one  said,  what  he  said,  and  how  finally  he  yielded 
to  their  gracious  entreaty  on  condition  that  they 
drink  with  him.  The  terms  were  accepted,  and  as 
he  was  paying  for  the  beer  one  of  the  party  took 
him  by  the  hand  and  said : 

"Boatswain  Miller,  I  have  heard  of  you,  and 
am  proud  to  have  made  your  acquaintance.  I  am 
not  only  an  officer  in  the  Queen's  Navy,  but  I  am 
the  Duke  of  Edinburgh,  and  I  want  you  to  re 
member  that  the  next  time  we  meet  you  are  to 
drink  a  bottle  of  wine  with  me." 

Months  dragged  into  years.  There  was  not  a 
man  on  the  seas  who  had  not  heard  of  the  honor 


HONG-KONG  141 

awaiting  Boatswain  Miller.  He  told  his  story  so 
often  that  it  threatened  to  run  into  rhyme,  and 
then  it  came  about  that  Miller  again  sailed  away  to 
Cherbourg,  and  it  really  happened  that  the  Duke 
of  Edinburgh  was  to  visit  his  ship.  When  the 
day  and  the  hour  of  his  coming  arrived,  the  ship 
was  dressed  in  a  rainbow,  the  marine  guard 
stood  attention,  and  Boatswain  Miller  piped  the 
side  as  the  duke  came  up  the  gangway.  But  no 
look  of  recognition  crossed  his  face.  Admiral 
Farragut  met  him,  and  together  they  walked  aft 
to  his  cabin.  Immediately  they  were  inside,  the 
duke  begged  the  admiral  to  tell  him  if  anything 
was  wrong  with  his  uniform.  Assured  that  every 
detail  was  perfect,  he  said  that  he  was  positive 
every  man  he  had  passed,  not  excepting  the  ma 
rines,  showed  marked  signs  of  suppressed 
laughter. 

It  was  an  opportunity  for  Admiral  Farragut  to 
relate  the  story  Miller  had  been  repeating  for 
twenty  years.  Listening  to  the  end,  the  duke 
begged  the  admiral  to  furnish  him  with  a  bottle 
of  champagne  and  permit  him  to  finish  the  joke. 

When  a  messenger  told  Boatswain  Miller  he 
was  wanted  in  the  captain's  cabin,  all  felt  that  his 
hour  of  reckoning  had  arrived.  They  felt  sure  he 
had  gone  into  the  presence  of  the  duke  that  he 
might  be  made  to  "eat  his  words." 


142  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

He  was  not  gone  long,  and,  returning,  was  seen 
to  wipe  his  mouth  on  the  back  of  his  hand  as  he 
swaggered  up  to  the  officer-of-the-deck  and  said, 
"Me  and  the  duke  has  just  drank  that  cham 
pagne.  I  suppose  you  fellers  thought  I  was  a 
liar." 

There  come  moments  of  seriousness  and  of  re 
flection  into  the  lives  of  all  men,  and  if  ever  in  one 
of  these  Miller  had  doubted  the  truth  of  his  own 
story  that  moment  had  flown,  never  to  return. 
Had  not  the  duke  in  drinking  with  him  in  the  sa 
cred  presence  of  the  admiral  confirmed  his  story? 

"Honor  among  thieves"  has  its  parallel  in 
"honesty  among  sailors."  I  would  unhesitatingly 
put  any  amount  of  money  in  my  diddy-box  in  the 
presence  of  the  whole  crew,  but  the  landsman  is 
not  always  so  safe,  as  was  proved  in  the  case  of  a 
bumboatman  who  had  a  silk  neckerchief  stolen 
from  his  pack  when  peddling  on  our  ship  more 
than  a  year  ago  in  Yedo  Bay.  The  thief  was  de 
tected  and  put  into  the  brig  to  await  trial. 

I  had  quite  forgotten  the  occurrence  until  we 
were  piped  "A-l-1  h-a-n-d-s  to  muster,  to  hear  the 
sentence  of  a  thief.  Do  you  hear  that  now  ?"  Of 
the  trial  I  am  ignorant.  What  we  heard  this 
morning  ran  something  like  this : 

"For  on  the  morning  of  the  thirteenth  of  No 
vember,  1895,  with  malice  aforethought,  etc." 


A  THIEF 


143 


The  sentence  passed,  his  bag  and  baggage  in 
cluding  full  pay  from  the  hour  of  his  detection, 
were  brought  to  him ;  a  guard  escorted  him  to  the 
port  gangway;  here  the  officer-of-the-deck  took 
his  cap,  and,  stripping  it  of  its  ribbon,  returned  it 
to  him.  It  is  an  indignity  a  sailor-thief  can  never 
escape.  With  head  bowed  in  shame  he  entered  a 
boat  and  was  rowed  away  to  the  shore,  where  he 
will  probably  join  the  ranks  of  that  little  army 
whose  recruits  represent  almost  every  civilized 
nation  under  the  sun.  I  mean  the  beach-combers.1 

1  Beach-comber:     A  seafaring  man,    generally  of  vagrant  and 
drunken  habits,  who  idles  around  the  wharves  of  seaports. 


DISGRACED 


CHAPTER  XV 

BANGKOK  — SINGAPORE— DRILLS  AND  TORPEDOES- 
CHEMULPO— FLOWER  WORSHIP— BECALMED 

WE  found  Bangkok  and  Singapore  right 
where  Rand  and  McNally  have  located 
them  on  the  map.  With  a  sieve  Bangkok  might 
be  separated  into  two  pictures ;  one  so  ugly  I  am 
fain  to  pass  it  by.  The  other  a  brilliant  carnival 
of  nations  whose  booths  were  floating  shops  and 
markets,  a  little  Venetian  waterway  under  the 
shadows  of  quaint  old  pagodas.  Our  stay  was 
short,  and  as  we  journeyed  on  toward  Singapore 
and  it  kept  getting  hotter  and  hotter,  I  wished  we 
had  tarried  longer  at  Bangkok,  if  only  that  I 
might  have  asked  if  it  were  the  birthplace  of  the 
Siamese  twins. 

Singapore  is  only  one  degree  north  of  the  equa 
tor,  and  I  was  not  disappointed  that  my  anticipa 
ted  tiger  hunt  was  not  to  be  realized.  Nobody 
went,  and  as  I  always  abominated  crawling 
things,  I  spent  a  good  part  of  my  shore-leave 
dodging  snake-charmers. 


BANGKOK— SINGAPORE  145 

The  people  are  interesting,  to  be  sure,  and  it 
was  novel  to  see  a  face  blacker  than  seven  black 
cats  shut  up  in  the  coal-bunkers,  crowned  with  a 
shock  of  Rufus  red  hair,  while  a  European  hat, 
coat,  and  waistcoat  looked  unique  when  the  legs 
of  the  wearer  were  swathed  in  an  uncut  trousers 
pattern. 

As  in  the  Bowery,  one  sees  strange  things  in 
Singapore.  Personally  I  enjoyed  most  of  all 
watching  elephants  building  a  railroad.  The  in 
telligence  they  displayed  was  little  short  of  mar 
velous. 

Of  course  every  sailor  had  to  take  a  ride  on 
an  elephant's  back,  but  I  was  very  glad  when  it 
was  over;  I  felt  like  a  fly  on  a  shaky  mold  of 
jelly. 

I  could  write  a  chapter  on  jugglers  if  I  under 
stood  their  faking.  Ten  days  constituted  our 
visit  to  Singapore,  and  there  was  rejoicing  when 
we  hove  up  anchor  to  return  to  Hong-Kong  and 
Mirs  Bay. 

Mirs  Bay  is  about  forty  miles  north  from 
Hong-Kong,  on  the  coast  of  China,  and  in  the 
great  plan  of  the  universe  must  have  been  de 
signed  especially  for  drills.  It  is  large  enough  to 
float  the  navy  of  a  nation;  there  is  no  landing; 
nothing  to  obstruct  our  range;  an  ideal  place  to 
try  our  torpedoes. 


A   TORPEDO 


146  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

Our  eight-inch  guns  are  supposed  to  carry  their 
projectiles  eight  miles,  while  the  torpedo's  dis 
tance  is  measured  by  feet.  The  moment  a  tor 
pedo  strikes  the  water  it  sinks  to  a  level  about  six 

feetbeneath 
the  surface, 
the  concus 
sion  awak 
ening  the  infernal  machine  inside  of  her.  Like  a 
flash  of  lightning  away  she  goes. 

Everybody  knows  what  happens  to  the  object 
that  gets  hit  by  a  torpedo ;  but  it  was  new  to  me  to 
learn  that  in  practice  the  battlehead  is  shut  up  on 
board  in  the  magazine,  and  a  dummy-head  sub 
stituted.  The  torpedo,  whose  machinery  is  driven 
by  compressed  air  under  pressure  of  400  pounds 
to  the  square  inch,  travels  under  water  for  a  dis 
tance  of  eight  hundred  yards  or  more,  then  with  a 
p-f-f  that  causes  a  splurt  of  the  water  it  comes  to 
the  surface.  A  launch  goes  after  and  tows  her 
back.  She  has  the  air-chamber  recharged  and  is 
fired  again  and  again.  Each  one  of  these  little 
toys  costs  our  good  Uncle  twenty-five  hundred 
dollars.  The  second  one  we  fired  balked,  sunk 
clean  out  of  sight,  and  never  came  up. 

It  was  the  opportunity  for  a  diving  drill.  We 
are  equipped  with  a  full  diving  apparatus  of  six 
armors,  the  wearing  of  which  is  non-compulsory. 


DRILLS  AND  TORPEDOES         149 

When  the  torpedo  sank  I  was  among  the  volun 
teers  to  go  searching. 
Some  one  sang, 

"Down  in  a  diving-bell 
At  the  bottom  of  the  sea," 

but  there  were  none  of  the  sights  and  wonders 
Jules  Verne  depicted;  just  mud  and  slime  and  a 
terrible  bugaboo  feeling,  especially  when  one  gets 
underneath  the  ship.  Of  all  the  horrors  the  hu 
man  mind  can  conjure  none  can  compare  with  the 
feeling  that  seizes  one  when  he  sees  a  man  in  div 
ing  armor  coming  toward  him  down  under  the 
ship.  It  is  like  an  onslaught  from  the  Royal  Gob 
lin  of  the  deep.  Seeing  one  coming  at  me,  I 
signaled  to  be  returned  on  deck,  where  I  grace 
fully  relinquished  my  suit  to  another  eager  vol 
unteer,  omitting  to  own  that  I  had  been  fright 
ened  half  out  of  my  senses  by  a  creature  exactly 
like  myself.  One  time  in  life  when  it  was  not 
well  to  "see  oursel's  as  ithers  see  us." 

We  searched  for  two  days,  but,  failing  to  re 
cover  the  torpedo,  quit  Mirs  Bay  and  went  on  an 
official  trip  to  Chemulpo,  in  Korea.  The  only 
thing  that  impressed  me  there  was  that  the  Kor 
eans  wore  padded  or  quilted  coats,  which,  once 
put  on,  are  never  taken  off,  but  suffered  to  fall  to 
pieces,  shedding  bits  of  cotton  over  the  landscape 


156  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

like  down  from  a  pussy-willow  in  springtime. 
When  this  moulting  leaves  them  chilly  they  add  a 
new  garment  on  top  of  the  others. 

We  remained  only  a  week  and  were  glad  to  be 
back  in  Nagasaki  in  time  for  the  Cherry  Blossom 
Festival.  Oh,  these  children  of  Japan,  how  they 
adore  nature  and  her  bloom !  It  set  me  thinking 
of  the  many  things  they  have  learned  from  us  in 
the  last  fifty  years,  and  I  am  asking  why  we  have 
not  from  them  learned  flower  worship? 

Year  after  year  Americans  flock  here  by  the 
steamer-load  to  attend  this  fete,  which  is  as  a 
stanza  sung  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  sami- 
sen  in  comparison  with  a  grand  opera  poured 
from  the  golden  throats  of  ten  thousand  orioles 
in  the  springtime  of  California. 

California's  spring!  Is  there  on  the  face  of 
God's  creation  anything  to  compare  with  it  ?  The 
eschscholtzias,  brilliant  as  the  sun  that  bathes 
them,  spread  their  gorgeous  carpet  over  miles 
upon  miles  of  valley  and  hillside,  while  the 
orchards  growing  above  them  wave  flowery 
branches  that  shed  with  their  dropping  petals  a 
perfume  like  the  breath  of  angels.  Must  one  go 
so  far  away  from  home  to  realize  its  beauty? 

From  Nagasaki  we  again  went  cruising.  That 
is  what  we  are  out  here  for.  Somewhere  out  on 
the  deep— I  did  not  note  the  latitude  nor  longi- 


BECALMED  151 

tude,  but  we  were  far  out  from  sight  of  land— 
the  lookout  shouted :  "Sail  O !"  Through  the  bin 
oculars  it  proved  to  be  a  Chinese  fishing-schooner 
flying  a  house-flag  and  an  international  signal  of 
distress.  One  of  our  ship's  Chinese  servants  was 
called  to  hail  them  through  the  megaphone.  No 
answer  returning,  a  boat  was  lowered,  and,  with 
the  Chinaman  as  interpreter,  rowed  to  her.  She 
had  been  blown  out  to  sea  in  a  squall,  lost  her 
bearings,  and  for  days  had  been  completely  be 
calmed.  Her  provisions  and  water  had  given  out 
and  the  crew  reduced  to  a  pitiable  condition. 
Their  tongues  were  so  swollen  that  they  could  not 
articulate  a  sound.  Our  surgeon  ministered  to 
their  distress;  we  gave  them  water  and  rice  and 
restored  their  bearings. 

Out  on  the  trackless  it  is  not  an  uncommon 
sight  to  see  a  hulk,  mast  and  spar  gone,  half  filled 
with  water,  cradling  on  the  waves.  Now  I  know 
whence  they  come. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

KEARSARGE  AND  ALABAMA—  THE  QUEEN'S  JUBILEE 

SONG 
THE  KEARSARGE  AND  THE  ALABAMA 

IT  was  early  Sunday  morning-  in  the  year  of  sixty- 

four. 
The  Alabama  she  cruised  out  along  the  Frenchman's 

shore. 
Long  time  she  cruised  about,  long  time  she  held  her 

sway, 
But  now  beneath  the  Frenchman's  shore  she  lies  in 

Cherbourg  Bay. 

CHORUS 
Hoist  up  the  flag,  boys. 

Long  may  she  wave  ! 
God  bless  America, 

The  home  of  the  brave! 


is  one  of  about  forty  verses  of  an  his- 
JL  toric  ballad.  Old  Purdy  hums  them  over  as 
he  attends  to  his  light  duties  as  captain  of  the 
hold,  or  occasionally  by  request,  sings  them  out 


152 


REARS ARGE  AND  ALABAMA      153 

lustily  at  the  dog-watch.  When  Seaman  McCue 
chances  to  be  in  a  spiritous  turn  of  mind  he  joins 
in  the  chorus. 

Purdy  and  McCue !  Living  relics  of  the  great 
est  naval  battle  of  our  Civil  War.  It  is  thirty- 
three  years  since  they  fought,  one  on  the  Kear- 
sarge,  the  other  on  the  Alabama.  They  were 
young  men  then,  each  defending  a  principle. 

McCue  was  of  the  number  picked  up  out  of  the 
water  by  the  English  yacht,  Deerhound,  when 
the  Alabama  went  down  with  her  flag  of  truce. 
The  destruction  of  his  beloved  ship  left  a  wound 
on  the  heart  of  the  seaman  that  never  healed. 
The  war  ended.  Returning  to  his  native  land,  he 
found  the  Confederacy  dead  and  buried  while  a 
vital  longing  for  the  sea  was  consuming  him. 
Reasoning  that,  though  wronged,  he  had  always 
been  an  American,  he  enlisted  in  the  United 
States  navy,  where  he  has  remained  in  uninter 
rupted  service  ever  since. 

Seaman  McCue  (as  he  insists  upon  being 
called)  is  a  little  man  with  bright  blue  eyes  peep 
ing  like  spring  violets  through  snowdrifts,  for  his 
hair  and  beard  have  retained  the  abundance  of 
youth,  though  silvered  to  whiteness  by  the  spray 
of  the  fleeting  years.  How  many  they  have  num 
bered  none  dare  to  ask,  as  Seaman  McCue's  dis 
taste  for  age  is  made  manifest  whenever  he 


154  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

speaks  of  his  old  shipmates  now  serving  on  the 
Independence.  They  are  invariably  referred  to 
as  "the  Guardo  Stiffs."  Poor  old  seaman!  It 

will  break  his  heart, 
but  I  sadly  fear  this 
will  be  his  last  cruise. 
He  is  efficient  in  his 
duty,  —  sweeping  the 
starboard  side  of  the 
gun-deck,  where  his 
life  is  rendered  as 
miserable  as  a  pack  of 
young  sea  devils  can 
make  it.  As  fast  as 
he  sweeps  some  one 
tears  and  scatters  pa 
pers  after  him  just  to 
hear  him  swear,  and 
yet  when  the  day 
came  that  we  noticed 
Mac  totter  on  the 
boom,  and  he  took  to  coming  from  the  cutter  by 
the  gangway,  it  was  whispered  he  would  be  ex 
changed  to  one  of  the  ships  going  home— it  was 
then  his  tormentors  came  to  his  rescue. 

They  begged  the  officer  to  excuse  him  from 
pulling  an  oar,  as  some  one  off  duty  would  do  it 
for  him.  The  officer  hesitated  a  moment,  when 


SEAMEN    PURDY  AND   MCCUE   FIGHTING 
THKIR   BATTLE   OVER   AGAIN 


KEARSARGE  AND  ALABAMA      155 

Young,  editor  of  the  Bounding  Billow,  the  ship's 
paper,  and  one  of  the  keenest  thorns  that  had 
pricked  him,  jumped  into  the  old  man's  place,  and, 
lifting  his  oar,  said,  "I  will  pull  for  Seaman  Mc- 
Cue  for  one  hundred  years." 

Mac  has  never  uttered  one  word  of  thanks.  In 
deed,  he  showed  much  the  same  disposition  he  did 
on  the  morning  of  Admiral  McNair's  first  inspec 
tion.  Coming  upon  him  in  the  ranks,  the  admiral 
said :  "Well,  Seaman  McCue,  I  think  it  about  time 
we  old  fellows  should  be  excused  from  duty." 
But  I  think  the  act  of  Young  entered  into  his 
heart,  for,  although  there  was  little  perceptible 
change  in  his  general  bearing,  I  think  he  went  of  t- 
ener  to  church,  and  I  am  sure  he  responded  more 
willingly  to  the  boys'  entreaty  for  a  sea  yarn. 

Of  Purdy?  He  must  have  been  a  giant  when 
he  manned  the  guns  of  the  Kearsarge,  but  to-day 
he  is  bent  at  the  waist,  and  the  surfs  of  time  have 
whitened  him  even  as  they  have  his  shipmate. 

One's  first  sight  of  Purdy  is  startling,  for  in 
the  middle  of  a  high  forehead  there  gleams  a 
bright  blue,  star,  visible  and  outward. sign  of  the 
star  gang. 

After  the  victory  over  the  Alabama,  twenty  of 
the  Kearsarge  crew  in  solemn  covenant  swore 
they  would  never  desert  the  navy  while  Uncle 
Sam  had  a  plank  afloat,  and  to  render  the  vow 


156  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

binding  they  each  consented  to  be  tattooed  in  a 
manner  that  would  unfit  them  for  any  other  sta 
tion  in  life.  Purdy  is  the  only  member  of  the 
gang  I  have  seen.  I  understand  there  are  five  or 
six  of  them  still  on  the  sea. 

These  men  are  not  only  living  relics  of  a  great 
battle  ;  they  are  animated  encyclopedia  of  the 
navy,  looking  with  small  favor  on  modern  war 
fare,  jumping  at  an  opportunity  to  refer  to  the 
good  old  times  when  they  had  "iron  men  and 
wooden  ships,"  leaving  the  inference  that  we  are 
wooden  men  on  iron  ships.  These  are  two  of  our 
veterans  quietly  filling  the  niches  that  Time  has 
carved  for  them ;  but  it  is  only  necessary  for  some 
jolly  young  tar  to  say:  "To-day  is  the  nineteenth 
of  June,"  directly  the  dead  embers  of  dissension 
kindle  into  a  flame  amidst  whose  crackling  may 
be  heard  the  hissing  sound  of  "rebel,"  "liar," 
"white  flag,"  and  "traitor,"  intermingled  with 
seamen's  curses — an  unfailing  prelude  to  a  rough- 
and-tumble,  hand-to-hand  fight  that  might  con 
tinue  to  the  bitter  end  were  it  not  that  the  tor 
mentors  who  start  the  fray  always  step  in  and 
separate  them.  The  next  day  they  are  as  good 
friends  as  ever. 

It  is  entirely  out  of  deference  to  these  veterans 
that  I  have  had  the  Kearsarge  and  the  Alabama 
tattooed  on  my  right  arm.  And  it  is  these  good 


THE 
BOUNDING  BILLOW. 


PUBLISHED  I!}  THE  IJITB^BSTS  C 


SfS^.l-oRSt.    ;  MANILA,  PHILIPPINE  ISLANDS,  JUNE,  IS98.  j 


THE   BATTLE    OF  MANILA  BAY, 

'       ^-es;,,;uxrv 

,^e  .— ,    *Ws* 


*  for  v£»bu  an&  our  honor,    to  ar.e?i^  our  !MO,>  *l 
rictoru  srreuSbob  our  banner  u'bon  ire  foiujbt  Ibc  sbi\~~.  of 


THE    ULYHPH'S    FAl'EK 


SITY 


KEARSARGE  AND  ALABAMA      159 

ships  that  will  bear  me,  when  I  am  old,  away  from 
the  humdrum  of  life's  cares  back  to  the  blue,  blue 
ocean  where  I  will  set  me  down  to  rest  upon  the 
fluke  of  a  kedge  anchor  and  hearken  again  to  the 
simple  stories  told  in  good  faith  by  Neptune's 
own  sons.  I  will  listen  to  Seaman  McCue's 
deep  sea  voice  as  he  tells  again  that  he  goes  to 
church,  not  because  he  believes  the  Lord  is 
always  there,  but  because  He  might  drop  in  dur 
ing  divine  service,  and  when  the  roll  was 
called  he  would  hate  to  salute  and  answer  "Ab 
sent,  sir/' 

But  his  faith  in  the  divine  presence  on  the  old 
frigate  California  is  like  adamant.  Mac  was  on 
her  for  three  years,  and  during  that  time  neither 
tide  nor  current  had  the  least  influence  upon  her ; 
anchor  where  they  might,  contrary  to  all  natural 
laws  she  always  turned  her  stern  to  the  stream. 
What  caused  it?  Nothing  but  the  presence  on 
board  of  the  Saviour  of  Men,  Who  was  so  angry 
when  the  proud  ship  was  ignominiously  sold  into 
civil  service  that  He  then  and  there  forsook  her, 
and  from  that  hour  she  turned  about  and  swung 
with  the  stream  just  like  other  ships.  Should  one 
manifest  a  doubt  he  will  say,  "I  suppose  you 
would  dispute  the  coming  of  Paddy  White's 
ghost  for  his  Christmas  rum  on  the  Indepen 
dence,  even  if  you  saw  him  with  your  own  eyes 


160  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

flying  like  a  white  crane  out  of  the  cemetery  back 
of  the  old  powder  magazine." 

And  when  I  have  smiled  again  at  these  homely 
tales  from  the  lips  of  McCue  I  will  recall  that  it 
was  Purdy  who  first  opened  my  eyes  to  a  full  un 
derstanding  of  the  distress  of  the  Ancient  Mar 
iner. 

It  is  his  firm  belief  (and  he  is  not  alone  in  it) 
that  in  every  bird  of  the  sea  there  dwells  the  im 
mortal  soul  of  a  sailor. 

Whenever  I  see  the  old  man  silently  watching 
the  sea-fowls  as  they  skim  over  the  waters  I  know 
that  he  is  communing  with  his  old  shipmates. 
These  hallucinations  are  so  perfectly  harmless, 
so  rapturously  enchanting,  that  I  gave  rein  to  my 
own  fancy,  and  in  its  flight  I  recognized  in  the 
black-ringed  gull  upon  the  f oretruck  the  reincar 
nation  of  the  boYn  of  the  Kearsarge,  and  in  the 
whispering  winds  in  the  rigging  heard  him 
shout:  "Cast  loose  and  provide,"  just  as  he  piped 
on  the  morning  of  June  19,  1864. 

On  the  morning  of  June  twentieth,  as  our  flag 
broke  at  the  masthead,  there  was  a  whirr  like  a 
flock  of  birds  taking  flight,  as  the  one  hundred 
and  one  flags  requisite  to  the  dressing  of  a  ship 
flew  to  their  wonted  places  with  England's  ensign 
at  our  fore.  It  was  the  Queen's  Jubilee,  and  such  a 
cannonading  Yedo  Bay  had  never  known  before. 


OF   THE 

UNIVERSITY 


THE  QUEEN'S  JUBILEE  163 

On  the  Fourth  of  July,  twenty-second  of  Feb 
ruary,  and  when  we  enter  a  foreign  port,  twenty- 
one  guns  are  fired,  and  we  have  nothing  better  to 
offer  were  President  McKinley  to  come  aboard 
to-morrow;  but  on  the  morning  in  question,  with 
the  Olympia  a  tiny  factor  in  a  great  pageant, 
Nancy  Lee  came  on  deck  with  sixty  beans  in  his 
hand.  Tossing  them  one  by  one  away,  he  marked 
the  seconds  as  he  commanded,  "Starboard-fire ! 
Port-fire !  Starboard-fire !"  and  so,  until  the  last 
bean  had  tallied  to  the  last  gun  of  the  salute.  Oh, 
it  was  great! 

In  the  afternoon  the  English  troops  drilled  in 
front  of  the  Grand  Hotel.  I  was  in  our  admiral's 
launch,  and  from  the  hettaba  took  in  the  scene. 
It  was  a  pleasing  one,  and  when  the  bands  played 
"God  Save  the  Queen,"  all  the  ladies  upon  the 
balconies  waving  flags,  handkerchiefs,  and  para 
sols,  took  up  the  air  and  sang  it. 

It  was  the  first  time  in  two  years  that  I  had 
heard  a  lady's  voice. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

"THE  DAY  WE  CELEBRATE"— A  NEW  CAPTAIN 
NAMED  GRIDLEY  —  TIENTSIN 

THE  Day  We  Celebrate  falling  upon  Sunday, 
we  "made  good"  the  following  Monday,  and 
probably  never  before  had  a  ship's  deck  under 
gone  such  changes.  A  flume  made  from  sheet- 
iron  started  up  in  the  skids,  and  dipping  and 
bending  widened  into  a  big  basin  on  the  spar  deck, 
grew  narrow  again,  extending  out  over  the  ship's 
side.  It  was  lined  with  stones  and  moss,  and  set 
about  with  countless  pots  of  Japanese  ferns,  flow 
ers,  and  shrubs.  When  the  pumps  set  to  work  a 
hidden  hose  supplied  the  water ;  it  ran  and  jumped 
and  sparkled,  overflowing  the  lake,  on  which 
sailed  a  six-foot  yacht  (a  perfect  model  of  the 
Defender),  then,  trickling  into  a  feathery  bam 
boo  forest  that  completely  shut  off  the  ship's  rail, 
fell  in  a  graceful  natural  waterfall  into  the  bay. 

Since  1776  it  has  been  customary  for  all  Eng 
lish  men-of-war  in  foreign  ports  to  go  out  cruis 
ing  on  the  Fourth  of  July.  Our  sixty  guns 
proved  a  panacea  for  the  old  grievances ;  they  not 
only  dressed  their  ships  in  America's  honor,  but 


"THE  DAY  WE  CELEBRATE"      165 

the  crew  of  H.  M.  S.  Undaunted  attended  our 
afternoon  entertainment.  As  they  came  aboard 
they  were  each  presented  with  one  of  the  printed 
programs.  And  gallantly  they  pinned  to  their 
neckerchiefs  the  little  silk  flag  that  lay  between 
its  leaves. 

The  program  went  off  without  a  hitch,  but  I 
am  fain  to  write  it  that  the  number  not  down  was 
the  one  to  win  the  laurels. 

The  fencing  contest  between  Japanese  sword 
masters  was  over,  and  the  victor  was  making  his 
salaams  to  the  audience,  when  one  of  our  blue 
jackets  stepped  out  and  by  gesture  challenged  him 
again  to  combat.  The  vanquished,  realizing  the 
purport  of  his  manoeuvers,  unbuckled  his  armor 
and  offered  it  to  the  seaman,  who  declined  all  save 
the  helmet  and  sword.  This  he  wielded  like  a  ball 
bat,  and  in  a  much  shorter  time  than  he  had  taken 
to  win  his  laurels  the  victor  was  vanquished ;  and 
only  for  the  interference  of  the  audience  the  set 
ting  sun  would  have  trailed  his  last  gleam  upon  a 
Japanese  corpse  under  the  bamboo  trees.  Oh,  it 
was  a  glorious  day,  followed  all  too  soon  by  one 
of  sadness,  for  it  marked  a  break  in  our  family. 

IT  was  quarters,  and  Captain  Reed,  accompanied 
by  a  stranger,  took  the  deck.  Colors  over,  he 
said: 


i66  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

"Captain  Gridley,  I  turn  over  to  you,  not  only 
the  finest  ship  that  ever  rode  the  seas,  but  the 
finest  crczv  that  ever  manned  one." 

There  were  tears  in  his  eyes  and  in  his  voice, 
and,  what  surprised  us  most  of  all,  a  smile  benig 
nant  lit  up  his  face.  It  was  the  first  we  had  ever 
seen.  Was  he  glad  to  go,  or  had  the  falling  of 
the  mantle  disclosed  the  man  ? 

IF  from  my  humble  station  I  dare  address  famil 
iarly  one  so  exalted,  I  would  say,  "Captain  Grid- 
ley,  I  know  your  motto,"  and  when  I  had  quoted: 
"Write  me  as  one  that  loves  his  fellow-men,"  he 
might  not  answer,  but  he  would  not  deny  me. 

He  had  been  heard  to  say  that  the  hardest  part 
of  a  captain's  duties  is  squaring  sticks,  while  he 
began  issuing  dinner  invitations  the  first  day  he 
took  command.  Beginning  with  the  first  lieu 
tenant,  he  went  through  the  rank  and  file  of 
commissioned  and  non-commissioned  officers, 
and  after  the  boatswain  had  dined  with  him  he 
began  again  at  the  top,  and  is  keeping  the  ball  in 
motion. 

It  is  only  because  of  his  kindly  nature  we  can 
forgive  him  for  bringing  us  back  here  to  Woo- 
sung,  a  country  so  very  flat  that  the  only  visible  un 
dulations  in  its  contour  look  like  bake  ovens  and 
prove  to  be  graves ;  to  me  at  least  it  is  uninviting. 


i  - 


0 

!* 

H 


e 


'£  §S§g 


A  NEW  CAPTAIN  — GRIDLEY      169 

And  if  I  have  omitted  mention  of  Canton,  which 
is  only  seventy-five  miles  up  the  river  from  Hong- 
Kong,  it  is  probably  because  it  has  been  made  so 
familiar  by  writers,  and  is  so  like  Shanghai  that 
the  only  special  impression  left  with  me  was  the 
one  I  received  when  a  gang  of  us  were  coming 
out  from  the  Temple  of  Five  Hundred  Gods. 

We  were  peaceably  going  our  way  when,  with 
out  the  slightest  provocation,  a  big  Chinaman 
spat  at  me.  I  drew  back  to  strike  him  a  well- 
deserved  blow,  but  was  caught  and  held  power 
less  by  my  shipmates,  who  explained,  while  I 
struggled,  that  were  I  to  strike  him,  not  one  of  us 
might  hope  to  escape  alive.  What  might  have 
been?  Why,  /  might  have  been  the  cause  of  an 
American-Chinese  war. 

Have  I  not  read  that  there  are  few  dogs  in 
China  and  that  the  babies  never  cry?  He  who 
wrote  it  must  have  made  his  observations  from 
some  European  hotel  porch.  I  have  seen  dogs 
thicker  than  on  the  bench,  while  the  babies  who 
dwell  in  the  floating  homes  of  the  Canton  River 
keep  up  a  wail  as  incessant  as  the  swish  of  the 
tide. 

Admiral  McNair,  desirous  of  going  up  to 
Tientsin,  and  realizing  that  the  Olympic,  could 
not  navigate  the  river  or  canal,  took  his  flag  with 
thirty  or  forty  of  our  crew  on  to  the  Monocacy. 


170  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

Poor  old  side-wheeler  with  its  crew  of  antiquari 
ans,  how  proud  she  was  to  be  a  flag-ship,  if  only 
for  one  moon,  and  how  glad  we  were  to  leave  her 
after  our  uneventful  trips!  There  was  interest 
in  studying  the  river  life  and  the  diversity  of 
crafts,  and  my  earnest  wish  is  this:  "If  the 
dream-man  ever  brings  me  anything  from  China 
may  it  be  one  of  her  flower  boats." 

While  we  were  doing  Tientsin  the  boys  in 
Man-o-war  Pool,  besides  scraping  barnacles,  had 
a  little  excitement  of  their  own.  One  of  the  stead 
iest  men  on  ship  one  day  had  occasion  to  enter 
the  captain's  cabin  when  that  gentleman  was 
entertaining  an  officer  from  one  of  our  other 
ships.  The  stranger  recognized  him.  What  he 
told  Captain  Gridley  we  never  heard.  We  know 
only  that  the  man  was  put  in  the  brig  with  double 
irons.  He  offered  no  resistance,  merely  asking  to 
go  on  deck  for  a  moment  to  get  something  be 
longing  to  him.  The  request  granted,  he  electri 
fied  all  onlookers  by  jumping  overboard,  swim 
ming  ashore,  climbing  over  the  levee,  and  escaping 
altogether  and  forever.  I  record  this  not  as  a  sea 
yarn,  but  as  a  swimmer's  record. 

The  novelty  of  foreign  ports  is  fast  wearing 
off,  it  is  call  here,  and  call  there,  then  to  Mirs  Bay 
for  practice  or  to  the  Kowloon  dry-docks  for  re 
pairs. 


TIENTSIN  171 

are  seven."  I  refer  to  the  Asiatic  squad 
ron,  and  when  two  or  three  of  us  are  gathered 
together  in  foreign  ports  it  is  like  meeting  friends 
from  home,  and  one  of  the  greatest  temptations 
that  beset  the  sailorman's  path  on  these  occasions 
is  that  of  borrowing  time.  For  instance,  if  your 
shore-leave  is  for  twenty-four  hours  you  are  apt 
to  find  thirty  necessary  to  the  carrying  out  of 
your  program.  Result?  The  ship  sets  a  mone 
tary  reward  upon  the  head  of  an  overtimer,  tak 
ing  it  out  of  the  captive's  pay.  The  detective  and 
police  forces  of  Japan  reap  a  nice  little  revenue 
from  the  capture  and  deliverance  on  board  ship  of 
the  American  sailor. 

So  long  as  Jack  keeps  in  a  gang  there  are  none 
bold  enough  to  interfere,  but  let  him  once  wander 
off  by  himself ! 

Illustration:  Scotty,  boatswain's  mate  of  the 
port  gangway,  lingering  on  and  on  until  he  was 
the  last  of  his  clan  on  shore,  was  finally  captured 
and  brought  aboard  in  irons,  which  the  deck  offi 
cer  imperatively  demanded  to  be  removed.  The  mo 
ment  the  left  cuff  was  unlocked  Scotty  seized  it 
in  his  right  hand,  letting  fly  a  blow  that  all  but 
killed  his  captor.  Poor  cop,  in  addition  to  his 
beating,  he  forfeited  his  fee,  as  the  law  requires 
irons  to  be  removed  before  a  prisoner  goes  into  a 
sampan.  (A  man  must  have  a  chance  for  his  life.) 


172  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

The  boys  have  established  a  little  game  with 
Yokohama's  police.  Permitting  themselves  to  be 
taken  four  or  five  in  a  bunch,  they  walk  unironed 
and  take  their  places  in  a  sampan.  When  near  the 
ship  they  capsize  the  sampan,  swim  to  the  gang 
way,  which  they  mount,  and,  dripping,  deliver 
themselves,  insisting  that  no  reward  be  paid,  as 
they  came  of  their  own  volition,  and  refusing  to 
pay  fare,  as  they  were  prisoners,  not  passengers, 
when  they  entered  the  sampan. 

One  time  during  some  special  fete  in  Tokio  I 
was  in  a  gang  who  voted  to  prolong  the  stay  to 
the  limit. 

The  limit  for  conduct,  Class  Number  One,  is 
forty-eight  hours,  diminishing  in  duration  as  one 
falls  from  Class  One  to  Class  Four.  On  special 
occasions,  such,  for  instance,  as  that  of  our  first 
visit  to  Yokohama  after  the  typhoon,  we  are 
granted  seventy-two  hours,  but  there  are  other 
occasions  when  time  is  too  short  and  the  seaman 
borrows  from  the  ship.  (It  is  a  loan  simple  and 
pure,  for  when  taking  we  know  just  what  interest 
we  shall  have  to  pay.) 

On  these  overtime  excursions,  when  funds 
grow  low  a  tarpaulin  muster  is  taken— that  is, 
every  man  empties  his  pocket,  giving  the  con 
tents  over  to  an  elected  treasurer,  who  from  that 
moment  proceeds  to  spend  it  for  the  benefit  of  the 


TIENTSIN  173 

crowd.  When  the  treasurer  sees  that  his  funds 
have  shrunken  to  a  size  that  will  allow  only  twenty 
sen  to  each  man,  he  calls  them  together,  and  in  a 
sampan  they  return  generally  clean  and  sober, 
though  not  on  time. 

It  is  well  to  understand  what  liberty  means. 
Say  you  have  been  granted  forty-eight  hours.  If 
you  stay  fifty  you  have  broken  your  liberty.  If 
you  get  back  in  nine  days  and  twenty-three  hours 
you  are  an  overtimer,  while  if  you  stay  ten  days 
you  are  a  deserter,  and  dare  not  return.  There 
fore,  once  you  are  an  overtimer  the  duration 
is  kept  inside  the  limit,  and  is  determined 
by  the  contents  of  the  tarpaulin  or  success  of  the 
police. 

Once  more  I  say,  poor  police!  Sometimes, 
when  matters  grow  grave,  the  collecting  of  stray 
sailors  is  given  into  the  hands  of  the  detectives. 
On  such  an  occasion  a  crowd  of  us  were  walking 
along  Sailor  Town,  when  one  of  those  august 
personages  was  recognized  with  a  bunch  of  ar 
rest  warrants  sticking  out  of  his  pocket.  Sam 
Davis,  an  Irish-American  with  a  physique  like 
Jim  Jeffries,  walked  up  and  pulled  them  out  of  his 
pocket,  ran  them  over  until  he  found  his  own, 
then  in  the  prettiest  of  pidgin  English  asked, 
"You  see  this  one  ?  This  one  all  e-same  me.  You 
likee  take  me?" 


174  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

The  Jap's  knees  knocked  as  he  meekly  an 
swered,  "No,  me  no  want  ye." 

Then  Sam  tore  the  whole  bunch  into  bits. 

This  same  Sam  is  unique  in  various  ways,  one 
of  them  being  his  method  of  spending  his  time 
between  enlistments,  for  Sam  is  among  the  ocean- 
wedded.  At  the  expiration  of  a  term  our  Uncle 
gives  his  sailors  three  months'  vacation  with  pay. 
Last  season,  when  we  were  in  Nagasaki,  Sam  got 
his  triennial  and  proceeded  to  get  rid  of  the  lucre 
he  had  hoarded.  His  first  day  on  shore  he  spent 
one  hundred  dollars.  Realizing  that  this  was  an 
extravagance,  he  counted  his  money  out  into  piles 
of  fifty  dollars  each,  putting  himself  on  a  daily 
allowance.  When  night  came,  if  he  had  not  spent 
the  sack  he  threw  all  that  remained  in  it  to  the 
beggars. 

Sam  was  back  on  ship  long  before  his  three 
months  were  up ;  he  said  he  was  afraid  the  boys 
would  sail  away  and  leave  him. 

I  suppose  these  reminiscences  will  be  incom 
plete  unless  I  write  something  about  the  marines. 
What  shall  it  be? 

When  a  little  tad  I  used  to  count  the  buttons  on 
my  jacket  by  repeating,  "Rich-man,  poor-man, 
beggar-man,  thief."  Here  we  read  them,  "Sailor, 
soldier,  dog,  marine,"  and  that  it  may  not  look 
like  sailor  spite  I  will  tell  a  little  story  about  the 


TIENTSIN  175 

chaplain,  who,  in  exhorting  a  crew,  wound  up 
with  the  touching  peroration : 

"Officers  have  souls  to  save,  sailors  have  souls 
to  save,  yes,  even  the  poor  marines  have  souls  to 
save!" 


10 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

ON  THE  DEEP  —  ADAMASTOR  —  A  BURIAL  AT   SEA  — 
IN  A  DRIFTWOOD  FIRE 


life  of  a  seaman  is  not  lived  entirely  in 
port.  When  cruising  out  on  the  broad 
ocean  we  steer  clear  from  the  tracks  laid  for  the 
mail-ships,  choosing  a  pathless  waste  where  there 
is  uninterrupted  target  range.  I  should  like  to 
write  of  thirty-seven  days  out  of  sight  of  land, 
just  cruising,  and  drilling  as  a  long  cruise,  but 
when  I  hear  sailormen  telling  tales  of  more  than 
a  year  afloat  on  an  old  wind-jammer  I  am 
ashamed  to  mention  it,  although  I  cannot  leave 
off  wondering  where  all  the  blue  comes  from. 
Has  the  ocean  drunk  from  the  heavens  until  they 
have  grown  pale,  or  is  the  sky  merely  a  mirror  of 
the  ocean's  sapphire  ? 

In  the  calmest  of  weather  there  are  always 
great  blue  swells  far  out  at  sea,  so  blue,  so  free 
from  whitecaps  that  one  requires  but  slight  im 
agination,  by  looking  through  half-closed  lids,  to 
see  great  rolling  meadows  of  gentians.  This  is 
where  all  the  pretty  little  formalities  of  port  life 


ON  THE  DEEP  177 

are  laid  aside — the  moment  the  anchor  is  on  deck, 
the  ship's  flag  and  the  union  jack  are  folded 
away,  and  their  staffs  taken  down,  while  simul 
taneously  with  their  lowering  an  ensign  mounts 
to  the  gaff  and  the  admiral's  flag  shrinks  on  the 
main  truck. 

It  is  at  sea  we  get  in  our  hard  work,  and  there 
is  so  much  of  it  that  half  of  the  crew  (two  hun 
dred  men)  are  always  on  duty. 

If  for  the  cruise  you  are  chosen  as  a  helmsman, 
you  are  exempt  from  sea  watch,  deck  work,  etc. 

It  is  n't  a  bit  jolly  to  stand  a  trick  at  the  wheel : 
it  is  two  hours  on  and  four  hours  off,  day  and 
night.  Not  a  word  dare  you  speak,  and  the  pres 
ence  of  an  officer  near  by  makes  a  stolen  smoke 
impossible.  Were  a  choice  offered  I  would  say, 
give  me  a  mid-watch  aloft  in  a  storm  in  prefer 
ence,  for  there,  when  the  night  is  cold  (although 
it  is  not  so  written  in  the  regulations),  a  peculiar 
jerking  at  a  signal  halyard  tells  you  that  a  can  of 
hot  coffee  is  on  the  way,  and  when  it  comes  up, 
you  bless  it  from  the  fullness  of  your  heart. 

For  variety  at  sea,  once  when  we  had  been 
practising  with  the  six-inch  guns,  and  were  "se 
curing"  for  dinner-hour,  we  saw  a  monster  spout 
ing  off  our  starboard  beam.  We  begged  ,to  take 
a  shot  at  it,  and  the  officer  of  the  deck,  recogniz 
ing  an  impromptu  target,  gave  us  leave.  We 


178  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

fired  two  shots,  and  the  expression,  "a  sea  of 
blood,"  which  I  had  always  looked  upon  as  an  ex 
travagance  of  speech,  became  a  reality.  When 
we  returned  from  mess  the  ocean  for  a  mile 
surrounding  the  whale  was  as  red — well,  as  red 
as  blood. 

It  is  during  these  cruises  that  we  get  down  to 
hardtack  and  salt-horse.  The  zest  of  the  brine 
savors  everything,  and  a  man  no  longer  eats  his 
meals  or  goes  to  "chow,"  but  "scoffs  his  scouse," 
and  it  is  the  place  where  the  man-o'-war  cocktail 
gets  in  its  deadly. 

To  be  found  drunk  at  sea  while  on  duty  is  not  a 
matter  to  make  light  of,  yet,  serious  as  it  is,  I 
have  known  Jack  Weir  stoutly  to  deny  the  charge 
of  drunkenness,  and  to  demand  audience  with  the 
Lieutenant-Commander,  of  whom  he  would  ask 
a  certificate  from  "Microbes"  to  prove  that  he 
was  drunk. 

The  harangue  ends  in  a  sort  of  vaudeville 
"stunt"  that  delights  both  officers  and  men.  The 
doctor  comes,  feels  Jack's  pulse,  pronounces  him 
drunk,  and  without  further  protest  the  patient 
goes  to  the  brig. 

The  eight-inch  turret-guns,  which  we  keep  like 
burnished  silver  in  port,  we  treat  to  a  coating  of 
white  lead  and  tallow  at  sea.  When  the  weather 
invites,  drills  and  gun  practice  are  gone  through 


THE    DERELICT    IN    THE    DRIFTWOOD    FIRE 


"FAR  OUT  AT  SEA" 


ADAMASTOR  181 

again  and  again.  Neptune  forbidding  drills,  just 
for  the  sake  of  keeping  a  fellow  busy  I  have  often 
squilgeed  and  tried  to  dry  the  decks  when  every 
second  wave  left  them  awash  fore  and  aft. 

On  dark  nights  sometimes  we  flash  signals 
upon  the  clouds,  and  if  one  of  our  own  ships  sees 
it  she  answers  back  from  miles  and  miles  away. 

Often  have  I  been  forced  to  the  exertion  of  my 
utmost  strength  in  fighting  the  wind  as  I  strug 
gled  aloft,  where  I  would  stand  pinned  to  the  top 
mast  by  the  storm. 

It  is  on  nights  like  this  that  the  old  salt  warns, 
"Look  out  for  Adamastor,"  a  hideous  phantom 
whose  face  is  scarred  by  lightning  and  whose 
eyes  shoot  fire.  The  roaring  one  hears  in  the  rig 
ging  is  his  awful  voice,  hissed  between  blue  teeth 
and  lips  of  black,  warning  the  sailor  that  the  ship 
wrecked  shall  be  made  to  deplore  their  foolhardi- 
ness.  (Whenever  a  ship  is  wrecked,  the  sailors 
alone  are  to  blame. ) 

Adamastor  is  only  one  of  many  sea-spooks 
firmly  believed  in.  Let  the  incredulous  but  smile 
at  a  recital  of  his  prowess,  the  sea-dog  will  growl, 
an  effectual  answer  to  questioning  or  doubt.  And 
do  you  realize,  just  from  association,  that  even  in 
your  unbelief  you  find  yourself  looking  for  him 
on  dark  nights  when  shifting  the  graveyard 
watch  ? 


182  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

One  night  I  thought  surely  I  had  met  him,  but 
it  turned  out  to  be  a  flash  of  lightning  so  near  my 
face  that  it  blinded  me.  I  told  Purdy  about  it, 
and  he  said,  "You  have  seen  him,  lad.  He  was 
batting  his  eyes  at  you  because  you  were  sleeping 
on  watch/' 

There  are  some  incidents  of  the  deep  sea  that  a 
natural  shrinking  from  things  unpleasant  has 
caused  me  to  omit.  For  instance,  on  our  ten  days' 
cruise  from  Chi-fu  to  Vladivostok,  when  poor 
little  Coxswain  Jimmy  died,  it  was  the  first  burial 
at  sea  I  had  ever  witnessed.  It  was  at  six  bells  of 
the  forenoon  watch  when  Pat  Murray  piped: 
"A-l-1  h-a-n-d-s  bury  the  dead !" 

We  mustered  on  the  spar-deck,  where  the  star 
board  gangway  lad 
der  lay  reversed 
alongside,  revealing  a 
smooth,  well-finished, 
rounded  sluice,  which 
I  at  once  suspected  of 
having  been  so  fash 
ioned  for  a  purpose. 
At  its  upper  end, 
sewed  up  in  his  ham 
mock,  with  a  shot  at  his  feet  and  the  union  jack 
spread  over  him,  our  shipmate  lay. 

With  heads  uncovered  and  bowed  in  solemnity, 


THE   TRACKLESS    WASTE    OF   THE    PACIFIC*' 


A  BURIAL  AT  SEA  185 

we  listened  to  the  chaplain's  prayer,  ending  with, 
"We  commit  thy  body  to  the  mighty  deep."  Then 
the  gang-plank  tipped  and  the  body  shot  from  un 
der  the  union  jack  out  into  the  ocean;  three  vol 
leys  of  musketry  were  fired  over  the  water;  the 
bugler  sounded  "taps,"  and  the  cannon  boomed 
"farewell."  (It  is  the  only  time  a  sailor  ever  goes 
over  the  starboard  gangway.) 

During  the  service  the  ship  stopped  her  en 
gines,  but  it  could  not  have  been  fifteen  minutes 
from  the  piping  to  quarters  until  all  hands  were 
back  at  their  stations  and  it  was  all  over.  (Some 
times  I  envy  the  man  with  a  lame  memory  and 
no  imagination.) 

It  was  in  the  early  dawn  of  the  star  watch, 
when  the  sea  and  the  sky  were  our  world,  that  I 
stood  in  the  yards  watching  the  dawn  spreading 
her  rosy  path  for  old  Phoebus  as  he  came  riding 
out  of  the  deep.  I  never  tire  of  the  picture ;  and 
as  I  looked,  between  it  and  me  there  arose  that 
which  regulation  demanded  I  should  report. 
"Sail  O !"  I  cried. 

"Where  away?"  from  the  bridge. 

"Three  points  on  the  port  bow,  sir." 

"Can  you  make  her  out?" 

"I  think  it  is  a  wreck,  sir." 

It  proved  to  be  a  derelict,  the  first  I  had  ever 
seen,  and  although  I  have  met  many  since  that 


i86  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

day,  I  can  never  forget  it  nor  cease  to  wonder 
where  she  had  sailed  from.  Generally  a  boat  is 
sent  out  with  mines  and  the  derelict  blown  into 
driftwood. 

But  this  much  do  I  know  of  my  future :  when 
ever  I  sit  by  a  driftwood  fire  I  shall  see  that  dere 
lict,  green  with  moss  like  a  rotted  tree  in  the  for 
est,  nests  hanging  from  her  broken  spars,  and  the 
old  hulk  rolling  and  floating  aimlessly,  monoton 
ously,  as  the  sea-gulls  circle  about,  crooning  their 
lamentations. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
IN  PORT — CASEY'S  BAND— HOW  IT  is  DONE 

ON  entering  port  we  are  met  by  the  harbor 
master,  who  conducts  us  to  our  berth.  As 
soon  as  we  are  anchored  or  moored,  all  hands 
turn  to  and  get  things  into  shipshape.  After  the 
national  salute,  if  there  is  another  flag-ship  we 
salute  her,  and  are  answered  back  thirteen  guns 
for  our  own  two  stars.  It  is  little  short  of  mar 
velous  how  quickly  so  many  things  can  be  ac 
complished.  If  it  is  warm  weather  the  awnings 
are  spread,  and  when  the  union  jack  goes  up  at 
the  bow  we  are  ready  for  a  season  at  home. 
(Have  I  written  it  before  that  the  union  jack 
never  flies  when  work  is  going  on,  only  when  the 
ship  is  in  perfect  order,  and  also  when  she  is  at 
anchor?) 

There  are  many  "social  functions"  held  in  the 
cabin  and  ward-rooms,  while  the  crew,  in  ways 
peculiar  to  themselves,  revel  in  entertainments 
that  are  at  least  unique. 


i88  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

One  day,  on  the  bulletin-board  there  appeared 
the  following 

NOTICE: 

Casey's  Band  will  give  a  full-dress  concert,  for 
ward  on  the  berth-deck,  at  6  bells  t'night.  All  hands 
invited. 


Nobody  went  ashore,  and  six  bells  found  a  full 
house  gathered  to  greet  Casey's  Band.  Their 
uniforms  were  oilskins,  their  instruments  the 
ones  discarded  by  the  ship's  band  for  more  mod 
ern  ones. 

These  instruments  had  been  sent  down  to  the 
hold,  where  Purdy  was  heard  to  remark,  "If  they 
only  had  mouthpieces  they  would  be  as  good  as 
new."  It  was  a  light  task  for  "Chips"  to  fashion 
excellent  mouthpieces  from  empty  spools,  while  to 
fit  a  man  to  each  horn  was  no  trouble  at  all. 

Casey,  .the  leader,  had  played  in  a  band  before, 
and  blew  a  fairly  good  cornet,  and  the  natural 
confidence  that  most  seamen  possess  in  their  abil 
ities  supplied  the  other  necessary  talent.  Any 
way,  taken  as  a  "toot"  they  were  a  success. 

To  save  brainwork  in  the  arranging  of  a  pro 
gram,  they  took  one  of  the  old  ones  used  by  the 
ship's  band.  It  was  great,  and  when  they  essayed 
"Cavalleria  Rusticana"  the  audience  rolled  upon 


CASEY'S  BAND  191 

the  deck  with  laughter — a  very  triumph  of  ap 
plause. 

Casey's  Band  flourished  at  the  dog-watch  for 
several  weeks,  fell  away  piece  by  piece,  finally 
dying  a  natural  death. 

BY  making  a  point  of  returning  on  board  "O.  T. 
C.  S.,"  I  have  had  about  all  the  shore-leave  that 
was  coming  to  me;  still  I  must  apologize  to  my 
dear  Uncle  for  questioning  his  judgment,  I  being 
of  the  opinion  that  some  one  in  power  is  too  old  to 
realize  how  much  time  ashore  is  really  necessary 
to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  Jack  Tar. 

To  break  time  is  so  expensive  that  one  can  ill 
afford  it,  and  we  are  forced  either  to  forswear 
our  heart's  craving  or  to  "jump  ship." 

There  are  several  ways  of  going  about  the  lat 
ter,  the  chief  requisite  in  any  of  them  being  a 
marine  on  guard  who  is  endowed  with  at  least 
semi-human  instincts. 

I  recall  an  evening  in  Yokohama  when  I  was 
watching  for  my  chance  to  shinny  down  the  an 
chor-chain,  when  the  forecastle  sentry  said,  "I  'm 
on  to  you,  Jack,  and  if  you  are  not  out  of  my 
sight  in  five  minutes  I  will  run  you  up."  Then, 
like  a  gentleman,  he  turned  his  back  while  I  pro 
ceeded  to  obey  orders. 

It  is  easy  enough  to  crawl  through  the  hawser- 


192  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

hole,  clamber  down  the  chain,  drop  into  a  sampan 
and  be  rowed  ashore,  but  not 
always  so  simple  a  matter  to 
get  back,  for  there  is  uncer 
tainty     about      the      anchor- 
watch,  and  a  certainty  that  an 
officer    will    be    at    the    port 
gangway  with  the  shore-list. 
If  he  is  new  it  is  easy  to  borrow 
a  name  both  to  go  and  to  return 
on,    thus    many    a    time    have    I 
skipped  ship  and  returned  without 
detection,   but   there   came   a   day 
when  the  port  gangway  was  our 
only  port  of  entry.     Andy  Burns 
was  with  me,  and  it  was  he  who 
proposed  that  we  run  a  bluff.    Ac 
cordingly,  when  the  liberty  party 
was   coming  off  we  joined  them, 
saluted,   and   reported,   "Returned 
aboard,       sir,"       and 
passed    on    with    the 
bunch.      I    was    hug 
ging    myself    in    de 
light  and  picturing  a 
future    in    diplomatic 
circles,  when  the  of- 
ficer-of-the-deck    sent 


IT    IS   EASY   TO    CRAWL    THROUGH   A 

HAWSER-HOLE   AND   CLAMBER 

DOWN   THE   CHAIN 


HOW  IT  IS  DONE  193 

for  us  and  said,  "Young  men,  don't  think  you 
have  fooled  anybody,  and  see  to  it  that  you  don't 
attempt  this  trick  again."  That  man  is  a  brick, 
and  will  make  a  good  admiral ! 

HOME  was  never  like  this!  Nevertheless,  we 
have  grown  to  speak  of  Yokohama  as  home.  We 
know  every  street  in  her  town  and  every  craft  in 
her  harbor;  we  have  visited  the  men-of-war  of 
every  nation  that  floats  one,  always  returning 
prouder  than  ever  of  the  Olympia.  The  British 
tars  call  her  a  shipload  of  guns.  They  have  a 
battle-ship,  the  Powerful.  We  look  like  a  steam- 
launch  alongside  of  her.  Her  crew  numbers 
more  than  three  times  as  many  as  ours,  while  she 
carries  less  than  our  complement  of  guns. 

Because  of  a  common  language  it  is  with  the 
English  sailor  we  engage  in  shore  games.  Many 
boxing  matches  are  "pulled  off"  between  the  tars 
of  the  United  States  and  its  mother  country  with 
wavering  results. 

In  boat-racing  the  eagle  has  beaten  the  lion  and 
the  unicorn  every  time,  and  of  the  races  that  are 
confined  to  our  own  squadron,  and  which  take 
place  almost  every  time  we  come  into  port,  I  am 
proud  to  write  that  the  stars  are  thickening  about 
the  Cock  of  the  Station,  and  that  he  still  roosts 
on  the  Olympia's  yard-arms. 


194  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

It  was  in  the  old  days  when  Lieutenant  Sturdy 
was  executive  officer,  and  on  one  of  his  regular 
tours  of  inspection,  that  he  stopped  at  the  hatch 
and  looked  down  into  the  brig.  What 
he  saw  was  about  twenty  men  doing  thirty 
days  in  the  brig.  When  Lieutenant  Sturdy 
came  upon  them  they  were  seated  in  a  row,  each 
upon  his  diddy-box,  a  well-organized  negro  min 
strel  troupe  who  good-humoredly  accompanied 
their  songs  with  the  rattling  of  their  fetters.  At 
the  moment  in  question  two  of  them  who  wore 
only  bracelets  were  doing  a  double  buck-and-wing 
so  dexterously  they  had  won  the  approbation  of 
the  guard,  who,  leaning  his  gun  against  the  brig's 
side,  was  vigorously  working  both  hands  and  feet 
in  beating  time  for  the  dance. 

It  hurts  me  to  write  the  sequel.  The  poor 
guard  was  called  up,  put  into  double  irons  and 
sent  below,  where  he  was  denied  a  position  in  the 
troupe.  A  sailor  even  in  the  brig  could  never 
stoop  to  familiar  association  with  a  marine ! 

AFTER  dark  it  is  supposed  that  none  but  our  own 
boats  or  those  bearing  our  officers  or  men  will 
approach  the  ship.  Therefore,  when  the  bridge 
look-out  calls  "Boat  ahoy!"  there  can  be  but  one 
of  these  answers.  If  it  is 
Flag-officer:  "Flag" 


HOW  IT  IS  DONE  195 

Chief-of-staff,  if  not  in  command  of  the  ship: 
"Fleet" 

The  captain :  "Olympia" 

Other  commissioned  officers:  "Aye,  aye!" 

Other  officers:  "No,  no," 

A  sailor  or  enlisted  man :  "Halloo !" 

Boats  not  intending  to  go  alongside  answer 
"Passing." 

One  night  the  quartermaster  reported  "Cap 
tain  coming  alongside,  sir."  To  his  astonish 
ment,  the  boat  pulled  up  at  the  port  side  and  up 
came  Bill  Bartley,  hopelessly  intoxicated.  Un 
lucky  Bill !  The  only  shore-leave  he  ever  got  was 
the  quarterly  twelve  hours  a  man  must  take  willy- 
nilly,  and,  as  is  understood  in  Bill's  case,  that  he 
swims  for.  But  this  was  an  offense  most  serious, 
he  had  answered  "Olympia,"  instead  of  "halloo," 
and  for  such  a  transgression  could  not  bide  the 
"stick,"  but  the  very  next  morning  was  taken  into 
the  skipper's  cabin. 

Captain  Gridley  immediately  recognized  in 
Bartley  a  seaman  he  had  known  since  he  himself 
was  a  midshipman. 

The  pros  and  cons  of  that  heart-to-heart  talk 
can  only  be  guessed  at;  but  Bill,  instead  of  going 
to  the  brig,  came  forth  with  every  offense  that 
was  scored  against  him  wiped  off  the  slate  and 
his  forfeited  pay  restored.  He  was  put  into  the 


196  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

First  Conduct  Class,  where  he  has  remained  from 
that  day  to  this.  Bill  as  a  blacksmith,  has  always 
been  invaluable,  but  to-day  there  is  not  a  soberer, 
better  behaved,  man  on  ship. 

I  can  never  think  of  B.  B.  with 
out  the  accompanying  subject  of 
swimming;  and  what  jolly  times 
we  have,  too!  There  is  always  a 
life-boat  out  at  swimming  hour, 
and  the  safety  born  of  its  proxim 
ity  has  made  us  fearless  and 
expert.  On  summer  nights  we 
often  don  our  swimming  tights 
underneath  our  uniforms,  and 
when  clear  from  the  ship,  strip  and  jump  over 
board,  swimming  and  floating  until  we  go  ashore 
at  Homoca,  where  we  loll  beneath  the  vines  until 
our  clothes  overtake  us. 

Then  for  a  sailor's  moonlight  picnic,  often 
watching  the  varied  water  carnivals.  One  that 
comes  in  August,  "The  Festival  of  Departed 
Spirits,"  I  can  never  forget,  although  I  shall 
make  no  effort  to  describe  it. 

We  did  not  carry  our  luncheon  to  these  picnics, 
but  bought  American  sandwiches  at  Japanese 
booths  and  washed  them  down  with  beer.  A 
prosaic  subject  that  makes  a  poetic  picture.  I 
mean  the  bottles  hidden  neck  deep  in  lacquered 


BILL  HARTLEY'S 
CHEVRONS 


HOW  IT  IS  DONE  197 

tubs  of  cracked  ice:  the  ice  catches  the  glints 
from  the  lanterns,  and  flashes  back  the  amethyst 
hues  of  the  wistaria. 


n 


CHAPTER  XX 

1898 — REAR-ADMIRAL     Me  NAIR     RETIRED  —  ENTER 
COMMODORE  DEWEY 

Ring  out  the  old, 
Ring  in  the  new. 

T?OR  1898  has  dawned  and  my  "three-years' ' 
±     enlistment  is  drawing  toward  an  end. 

What  a  pity  that  I  should  have  fallen  from  the 
log,  there  have  been  so  many  happenings  worth 
relating  at  the  home  fireside  had  I  but  jotted 
them  down !  This  brushing  together  of  port  and 
deep-sea  incidents  is  but  a  poor  apology  for  all 
that  I  might  have  written. 

There  are  men  who  have  lived  for  years  upon 
the  water,  sailormen  every  inch,  whom  I  would 
not  forget  if  I  could. 

There  is  Pat  Kelly,  master-at-arms  and  ven- 
due-master  of  the  lucky-bag,  who  always  an 
nounces  himself,  as  he  heaves  in  sight,  "Now, 
here  I  am,  and  a-fare-you-well.  On  the  jump 
from  morning  till  night";  and  another  Pat,  the 
chief  boatswain's  mate,  as  quiet  and  well-behaved 


1898  199 

a  gentleman  as  one  would  ask  to  meet  in  civil 
walks.  One  day,  in  his  modest  manner,  he  was 
commanding  the  lowering  of  a  boat,  when  a  lieu 
tenant,  looking  on,  interposed,  "Lower  away  a  lit 
tle  aft,  there."  Pat  Murray  paid  no  attention  to 
the  officer,  but  blew  his  whistle  as  a  warning  to 
the  boat's  crew,  and  in  his  wonted  manner  com 
manded,  "Lower  away  a  little  -for'ard."  The 
men  obeyed,  and  Lieutenant  Y.,  in  a  burst  of 
temper,  unbuckled  his  sword,  and,  proffering  it 
to  the  boatswain's  mate  said : 

"Here,  you  'd  better  take  my  sword." 

"Very  well,"  replied  Murray,  taking  off  his 
cap  that  he  might  remove  the  black  lanyard  from 
his  neck,  "You  take  my  whistle." 

The  lieutenant  walked  aft  as  he  buckled  on  his 
sword,  trailing  in  his  wake  a  volley  of  exclama 
tions  that  would  have  enriched  the  vocabularies 
of  Seaman  McCue  or  Jack  Weir. 

Jack  Heeny,  the  First  Class 
boatswain's  mate,  is  the  very  op 
posite  of  his  chief.  He  pipes  his 
whistle  like  a  flageolet,  and  in  its 
returning  echoes  blends  a  deep- 
sea  voice  that  sounds  like  the 
voice  of  a  lion  at  feeding-time  in 

,1  T»1  •  1     •  JA«_R.    rmtrsv 

the  zoo.  1  here  is  nothing  on  earth  CHEVRONS 

or  sea  like  his  call,  "N-o-w,  a-1-1-11  you  men  whose 


JACK    HEENY  S 


200  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

name  is  on  the  liberty  list,  s-t-a-n-d  by  to  go 
ashore !" 

At  first  I  thought  some  monster  of  the  deep 
was  roaring,  but  I  have  learned  to  understand  his 
every  call,  even  when  it  is  absolutely  inarticulate. 

By  some  strange  phenomenon  two  drinks  of 
spirits  will  completely  drown  his  voice.  This  sub 
merging  of  the  vocal  chords  in  no  manner  inter 
feres  with  his  whistle ;  so  the  men  have  learned  to 
look  when  they  hear  it.  Sometimes  we  see  him 
bracing,  with  legs  wide-spread,  his  jaws  violently 
working,  but  not  a  sound  escaping  from  his  lips. 

Another  boatswain  is  of  the  Second  Class  and 
belongs  on  the  gun-deck  at  the  port  gangway.  If 
there  was  ever  one  drop  of  the  milk  of  human 
kindness  flowing  in  that  man's  veins  he  certainly 
spilt  it  in  one  of  the  twenty-one  shipwrecks  he 
has  been  in. 

And  where,  oh,  where,  I  ask  again  and  again, 
do  all  the  rest  of  these  men  come  from?  For 
more  than  two  years  I  have  been  asking  it  of  the 
blue  ocean,  and  of  the  stars  that  shine  above  it, 
but  they  will  not  answer  me.  Can  it  be—  ?  Yes ; 
these  men  of  the  deep,  from  Rear-Admiral  Me- 
Nair  down  to  the  lowliest  of  the  marines,  are  the 
grown-up  children  of  the  kindergarten,  public 
schools,  and  colleges,  of  our  glorious  nation.  You 
can  find  them  there  in  embryo,  every  one  of  them. 


REAR-ADMIRAL  McNAIR  RETIRED  201 

Probably  the  admiral  made  his  debut  in  the  little 
log  school-house  near  his  father's  farm,  for, 
some  way,  it  seems  that  men  get  a  better  start 
there,  for  although  they  are  seldom  the  chosen  at 
the  beginning  of  the  race,  they  most  frequently 
come  in  on  the  home-stretch,  head  and  neck  ahead 
of  the  incubated  children  of  the  city. 

As  to  caste  in  !the  navy,  it  knows  neither 
wealth  nor  family;  nor  does  the  decoration  on 
cap  or  sleeve  have  the  weight  it  does  in  the  army 
— every  midshipman  expecting  to  be  a  rear-ad 
miral  before  he  is  retired. 

In  studying  the  crew,  I  recalled  the  words  of  a 
great  philosopher :  "A  man  is  not  his  father,  but 
himself";  otherwise  there  would  be  scattered 
among  our  lowly  ranks,  merchants,  doctors,  a 
minister  of  the  gospel,  an  editor  and  a  bank  pres 
ident  ;  while  among  the  commissioned,  where  one 
looks  only  to  find  "a  gentleman  and  an  officer,"  it 
sometimes  happens  a  snob  sneaks  in. 

There  is  an  ensign  whose  name  I  need  not 
write,  for  I  shall  never  forget  it.  That  fellow 
has  developed  the  brute  instincts  in  my  nature 
until  I  can  never  feel  myself  a  man  until  I  have 
avenged  his  insults.  Repeatedly  he  has  goaded 
me  beyond  human  endurance,  watching  me  grow 
pale  with  resentment;  he  once  taunted  me  still 
further  with,  "Why  don't  you  strike  me?"  To 


202  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

have  yielded  to  the  temptation  would  have  landed 
me  in  the  stone  frigate,  where  I  must  have  re 
mained  for  five  years  in  penal  servitude.  I  thank 
heaven  I  was  able  to  restrain  myself,  but  the 
world  is  small,  and  the  years  of  man  are  reck 
oned  at  three  score  and  ten.  Some  day  we  shall 
meet  on  shore,  and  whether  it  be  at  the  court  of 
St.  James's,  or  in  the  court  of  the  Palace  Hotel, 
I  will  thrash  that  little  cur  until  he  begs  for 
mercy.  When  I  have  done  this  I  can  laugh  at 
every  other  indignity  a  seaman's  life  has  brought 
to  me. 

Three  score  years  and  two  retires  an  officer 
from  service.  In  the  full  power  and  pride  of  a 
magnificent  manhood  Rear-Admiral  McNair  has 
left  us.  Soon  some  one  will  come  to  replace  him ; 
then  the  Baltimore  will  return  to  our  relief  just 
as  we  did  to  hers.  The  flag  and  the  band  will  go 
with  the  new  admiral  back  to  her,  and,  rumor 
says  the  Olympia  will  return  via  the  Suez  Canal, 
calling  at  the  chief  ports  of  the  Mediterranean, 
then  to  New  York  under  the  coach  whip  of  Cap 
tain  Gridley. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  LITTLE  COMMODORE— THE  MAINE  BLOWN  UP 
—  WAR-PAINT SEALED  ORDERS 

HE  came  aboard  at  Nagasaki,  dressed  all  in 
gray,  every  snap  of  his  keen  black  eyes  tell 
ing  that  he  was  not  delighted  with  his  berth,  and 
for  that  matter  neither  were  we,  the  crew,  exul 
tant  when  we  looked  to  our  gallant-mast  and  saw 
that  we  had  lost  a  star.  It  was  Commodore 
Dewey  who  was  succeeding  Rear- Admiral  Mc- 
Nair.  McCue  timed  his  sweeping  to  accompany 
his  cracked  voice,  and  he  sang, 

"Hurrah!  hurrah!  for  southern  right  hurrah! 
Hurrah  for  the  bonnie  blue  flag,  that  bears  a 
single  star." 

But  the  swallowtail  saves  it.  Oh,  the  discrim 
ination  of  flags  and  pennant  !•  Some  day,  when  I 
have  nothing  to  do,  I  will  go  to  the  flag  locker, 
just  around  from  the  ship's  library,  study  them 
out,  and  write  a  descriptive  poem  about  them.  A 
flag  that  means  "yes"  at  the  main  truck  means 
"no"  on  the  after  gaff.  We  carry  the  ensign  of 


206  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

every  country  under  the  sun,  and  among  our  rat 
ing  flags  there  are  blue  fields,  with  one,  two, 
three,  or  four  white  stars,  standing  respectively 
for  commodore,  rear-admiral,  vice-admiral,  and 
admiral.  Of  the  last  our  navy  has  had  but  two;1 
Farragut  and  Porter.  It  will  cost  another  war 
to  restore  the  office. 

Purdy  recognized  the  new-comer  on  sight; 
says  he  cruised  the  Mediterranean  with  him  when 
he  was  a  middy,  and  Scotty  says,  "Him  and  me 
was  shipmates  with  Farragut  at  New  Orleans." 
These  two,  with  others  of  the  old  guard,  having 
approved,  we  have  nothing  to  do  but  accept  their 
verdict,  and  certain  it  is  he  can  render  an  admir 
al's  inspection  quite  as  miserable  as  his  predeces 
sor.  This  through  with  we  started  back  for 
Yokohama,  making  our  seventh  trip  through  the 
Inland  Sea. 

I  have  seen  it  in  the  rosy  bloom  of  spring;  in 
summer,  when  the  purpling  mists  from  the  hills 
came  down  and  nestled  among  the  pendant  wis 
tarias;  in  autumn,  when  the  rose  had  deepened 
into  crimson,  and  the  golden  kiss  of  Midas  awak 
ened  it  to  unwonted  splendor.  But  on  this,  my 
last  voyage,  I  thought  it  more  beautiful  than  ever 
before,  for  the  cold  winds  coming  down  from  the 
home  of  eternal  snow  crisped  the  air  until  the 

1  Dewey  is  the  third. 


THE  MAINE  BLOWN  UP          207 

halos  on  the  heads  of  the  sailors'  guardian  angels 
shone  with  uncommon  radiance. 

Some  time  I  am  coming  here  again;  coming 
when  I  may  sleep  all  day  undisturbed  in  my 
berth,  and  lie  awake  all  night  upon  the  deck, 
watching  the  stars  as  they  guide  the  mariner  on 
his  way.  Or  I  will  loaf  all  day  upon  the  deck  and 
sleep  all  night.  Oh,  joy  in  the  thought  to  sleep 
again  a  whole  night  through ! 

We  were  disappointed  on  entering  Yedo  Bay 
not  to  find  the  Baltimore  waiting  for  us.  How 
ever,  I  have  still  five  months  to  serve,  and  really 
I  think  I  prefer  this  to  a  home  port,  just  so  I  am 
in  California  on  the  twenty- fourth  of  next  June. 

WHAT  a  change !  Two  weeks  after  writing  the 
above,  weary  of  waiting  for  the  Baltimore,  we 
were  returning  to  Kau-lung  to  make  ready  for 
our  home-going.  No  sooner  were  we  sighted  at 
Hong-Kong  than  every  flag  in  Victoria  dropped 
to  half-mast.  A  signal  was  given  us  and  we  read 
in  consternation:  "United  States  Battle-ship 
'Maine'  was  blown  up  in  Havana  Harbor  on 
February  15,  and  266  men  killed" 

Before  we  were  at  full  anchor  the  American 
consul  was  aboard,  and  the  general  belief  is  that 
the  destruction  of  the  Maine  was  the  result  of 
Spanish  treachery.  Nothing  authentic  nor  au- 


208  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

thoritative  has  been  given  out,  but  I  noticed  the 
governor  of  Hong-Kong  waived  the  salute,  and 
that  we  are  not  doing  any  target  practice;  in 
other  words,  we  appear  to  be  husbanding  our 
ammunition. 

The  little  commodore  has  taken  matters  in 
hand;  he  has  called  all  of  our  squadron  to  meet 
here  in  Hong-Kong.  He  has  also  bought  two 
ships,  which  he  has  provisioned  and  coaled.  As 
fast  as  they  come  in,  our  ships  are  run  on  to  the 
docks  and  made  ready.  Should  war  be  declared 
between  the  United  States  and  Spain,  England, 
China,  and  Japan  will  be  neutral,  which  means 
we  shall  be  without  a  berth,  our  nearest  being  San 
Francisco,  unless  we  should  go  out  and  capture 
the  Hawaiian  Islands,  a  trick  which  even  for  our 
little  Petrel  would  be  "like  taking  candy  from  the 
baby/' 

The  little  commodore  has  kept  us  jumping,  and 
we  are  ready  for  whatever  may  come,  and  already 
the  men  are  shouting,  "Remember  the  'Maine' !" 

One  morning  I  saw  the  ship's  painter  come  out 
from  the  commodore's  cabin,  carrying  a  long, 
three-inch  wide  board  painted  in  various  shades 
of  neutral  greens  or  grays.  When  I  asked  him 
what  they  were  for,  his  answer  was  both  unsatis 
factory  and  inelegant,  but  the  following  morning 
at  breakfast  the  uniform  announced  throughout 


"COALING" 


(OH 


V  i 

y 


WAR-PAINT 


211 


the  squadron  was  "old  working 
clothes/'  and  then  the  boatswain 
piped,  "A-l-1  h-a-n-d-s  paint  ship." 
That  was  on  the  morning  of  April 
19.     By  noon  ships,  masts,  boats, 
launches,   guns,   and   everything, 
had  been  treated  to  a  coat  of  "war 
paint,"     which,     in     the     United 
States  navy,  is  dark  gray.    Unless 
one  has  witnessed  the  painting  of 
a    man-of-war    it    is    difficult    to 
imagine   how   quickly   it   can   be 
done.    There  are  barrels  of  paint 
all  mixed  and  ready  before  the 
order  is  given,  and  in  ten  minutes 
after,  the  ship  is  literally  manned 
with  painters.     The  last  painting 
has       transformed      our 
beautiful  squadron  which 
had     gathered     together 
like     a    flock    of    white 
swans  wearing  red  fav 
ors,  into  a  flock  of  ugly 
ducklings    sulking    upon 
the  water ;  everything  save 
our  spirits  and  our  flags 
were  the  color  of  lead. 


As  soon  as  the  Balti- 


GIVING   THE  OLTMP1A    HER    COAT   OF 

"WAR-PAINT" 


212  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

more  reaches  Yokohama  she  will  hear  the  news 
and  hasten  to  us,  and  then —  ? 

She  came  in  early  one  morning,  was  rushed 
through  coaling  and  painting,  and  at  the  request 
of  the  governor  of  Hong-Kong,  all  hands  to 
gether  sailed  away  while  the  men  on  England's 
war-ships  cheered  us  as  we  passed  them. 

We  are  cut  off  from  everybody,  aliens  in  a  for 
eign  country,  but  it  can't  last  long.  There  is  go 
ing  to  be  something  doing. 

IT  was  past  noon  on  the  twenty-seventh  when  our 
fleet,  nine  ships  all  in  battle  array,  was  sailing  to 
sea  under  sealed  orders,  and  with  nine  crews 
bursting  with  expectancy.  At  five  o'clock  the 
Olympiads  crew  was  piped  to  quarters,  where  we 
listened  to  the  reading  of  the  following: 

COMMODORE  DEWEY: 

Proceed  at  once  to  Manila ;  engage  and  destroy 
the  Spanish  fleet,  when  and  where  you  find  them. 
WM.  McKiNLEY,  President, 

United  States  of  America. 

We  went  mad  with  joy.  The  news  was  sig 
naled  from  ship  to  ship,  and  before  we  turned  in 
that  night  a  new  battle-flag  was  begun  and  fin 
ished.  The  placing  of  the  stars  proved  that  we 
had  a  representative  from  each  State  in  the 


SEALED  ORDERS  213 

Union.  I  wrote  California  and  my  name  on  the 
back  of  one  and  sewed  it  on. 

But  there  was  more  to  do  than  just  the  making 
of  flags.  Next  morning  the  order:  "Clear  for 
action/'  was  given  in  earnest,  and  things  we 
never  thought  we  could  exist  without  went  over 
board. 

From  the  Chinese-Japanese  war  we  learned 
that  more  men  were  killed  by  splinters  than  by 
shell,  and  it  was  rumored  the  diddy-box  must  go, 
but  the  little  Commodore,  with  the  fate  of  a  na 
tion  fluttering  in  his  hand,  came  to  our  rescue. 
He  said  it  would  be  an  outrage  to  take  from  a 
man  the  only  thing  the  Navy  allowed  him  to  hold 
sacred,  and  he  asked  that  we  be  permitted  to  stow 
them  below  the  protective  decks — so,  here  you 
go !  Good-by,  Diddy,  until— until  we  meet  again. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
"REMEMBER  THE  MAINE!" 

Remember  the  Maine  when  great  guns  roar, 

When  cannon  belch  on  the  hostile,  shore. 

Remember  the  dead  in  a  sunken  ship, 

And  pass  the  cry  from  lip  to  lip. 

Forget  the  shriek  of  shot  and  shell; 

Forget  for  the  hour  that  war  is  hell. 

For  over  there  beneath  the  Bay 
Two  hundred  sailors  lie  to-day. 

Remember  the  Maine  in  an  alien  sea, 
That  rots  with  her  men  for  you  and  me. 
Remember  the  death-cry's  mournful  note 
That  rises  yet  from  our  sunken  boat. 

For  souls  that  rose  from  out  the  Bay 

Are  leading  armies  on  to-day. 

From  "The  Bounding  Billow. 


^P^HE  council  of  war  was  ended  and  the  cap- 
\_  tains  all  went  silently  down  our  gangway, 
each  entering  his  own  gig;  and,  as  every  captain's 
gig  wears  a  golden  arrow  on  its  bow  like  so  many 
darts  shot  from  the  flag-ship's  quiver,  they  each 
sought  their  own  target  —  their  own  ship. 

Everywhere  ammunition  lay  at  hand,  the  guns 
were  loaded,  and,  although  I  have  hundreds  of 
times  answered  the  order  "Cast  loose  and  pro- 

214 


"REMEMBER  THE  MAINE!"       215 

vide,"  that  night  there  came  a  sound  in  the  clos 
ing  of  the  breech-blocks  that  I  had  never  heard 
before.  The  click  of  the  steel  was  gone,  and  a 
muffled  something  that  shut  in  a  full  charge  went 
through  my  being.  I  cannot  tell  what  it  was ;  but 
I  know  that  every  man  who  fought  a  gun  that 
day  realizes  what  I  mean,  and  it  were  impossible 
to  make  one  who  has  never  heard  it  understand. 

It  was  news  to  me  that  the  order  "Clear  for 
action !"  included  the  clipping  of  every  man's  hair 
close  to  his  head;  the  surgeons  say  hair  is  as  dan 
gerous  as  cloth  in  a  wound.  The  climate  invited 
the  wearing  of  "birthday  shirts,"  while  for  trou 
sers  (our  only  garment)  many  substituted  bath 
ing  or  boxing  trunks. 

The  surgeons  are  a  jolly  good  lot  of  fellows, 
and  an  emergency  hospital  was  fitted  out  in  the 
ward-room  for  their  accommodation.  As  a  gang 
of  us  returning  from  a  watch  below  ran  through, 
a  junior  surgeon,  sitting  on  the  edge  of  the  table, 
took  a  cigarette  from  his  mouth  long  enough  to 
say,  "God  pity  any  of  you  poor  devils  who  come 
under  this,"  and  he  flourished  an  ugly  looking 
knife  at  us. 

I  mention  this  merely  as  one  of  many  incidents 
to  show  the  spirit  that  everywhere  prevailed. 

From  the  moment  we  loaded  and  trained  our 
guns  there  was  not  half  the  excitement  mani- 


216  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

fested  that  has  accompanied  every  one  of  our 
boat-races,  and  yet  no  pen  can  portray  the  sensa 
tions  that  alternately  raged  and  slept  within  our 
breasts  that  night. 

There  were  not  clouds  enough  to  hide  the 
moon,  but  we  lighted  no  running-lights,  and  our 
stern  lights  were  set  in  deep  funnels  that  shone 
only  astern,  and  in  a  feeble  glimmer,  just  suffi 
cient  to  gage  our  distance,  for  we  ran  in  close 
order. 

The  flag-ship  was  in  the  lead,  with  Navigator 
Calkins  on  the  standard  compass-stand,  listening 
to  the  heaving  of  the  lead.  "No  bottom  at  ten/' 
or  "By  the  mark  seven" — and  so  the  whispers  ran 
through  the  night,  the  only  sound  to  break  the 
awful  stillness  as  we  picked  our  way  through 
strange  waters ;  and  they  were  planted  thick  with 
deadly  mines,  which,  even  as  we  crept  along, 
would  often  burst  so  near  that  some  of  our  ships 
got  the  spray  flung  by  the  explosions. 

The  bells  were  mute.  To  the  soft  swish  of  the 
waters  the  hours  dropped  off  until  midnight, 
when  the  smoke-stack  of  the  despatch-boat  Mc- 
Culloch  took  fire  and  gave  the  enemy  our  bear 
ings.  It  was  all  they  needed. 

A  shell  whizzed  between  the  flag-ship  and  the 
Baltimore,  and  burst  in  the  water  beyond.  The 
Boston  immediately  cut  loose  with  an  8-inch,  and 


u 


"REMEMBER  THE  MAINE!"      219 

the  Petrel  with  a  6-inch  shell,  but  it  was  so  dark 
we  could  not  locate  their  batteries. 

We  signaled  to  the  McCulloch,  "Are  you  all 
right?" 

The  "O.K."  she  flashed  back  was  the  prettiest 
signal  I  ever  read ;  it  was  like  a  meteor,  and  when 
it  went  out  the  flag-ship  signaled  to  the  fleet  to 
cease  firing. 

It  was  during  the  starboard  watch  below  that 
five  of  us  crept  away  together  and  told  one  an 
other  things  we  had  never  told  before.  One  man 
gave  the  stage-name  of  a  well-known  actress  as 
that  of  his  mother,  and  I  for  the  first  time  owned 
that  my  father  was  a  bank  president.  Addresses 
were  exchanged,  and  with  them,  promises  that 
we  would  write  if — well,  if  anything  happened. 
Then,  solemnly  laying  our  hands  on  our  cut 
lasses,  we  vowed  never  to  surrender,  even  though 
our  ship  did,  and  that  we  would  fight  as  long  as 
there  was  a  glimmer  of  life  left  within  us.  This 
we  swore  as  the  Southern  Cross  rode  out  of  the 
water  and  stood  dead  ahead  on  our  bow. 

It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  seen  it,  and  yet 
I  did  not  even  notice  it  was  beautiful ;  for  I  was 
filled  with  a  sensation  I  have  felt  before — felt 
when  in  darkness  I  have  groped  in  a  melon-patch 
where  I  knew  the  bulldog  slept  unchained. 

Having  run  the  forts,  we  swung  to  the  left  out 


12 


220  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

of  range  and  slowed  down  until  the  ship  scarce 
stirred  a  ripple  on  the  water.  We  were  com 
manded  to  lay  by  our  guns  and  rest.  Was  there 
a  man  who  slept?  I  know  only  of  what  hap 
pened  in  the  after-turret  with  its  two  8-inch  guns. 

The  ammunition-hoist  that  served  us  both  was 
the  dividing-line  of  the  crews:  we  were  eight  to 
a  gun,  each  with  a  separate  and  distinct  manhood, 
while  as  a  gun-crew  we  were  the  combined  vital 
parts  of  a  steel  monster  that,  gorged  with  des 
truction,  lay  sleeping  in  darkness. 

I  knew  her  as  a  mother  knows  her  child,  and 
twenty  times  I  took  the  battle  lantern  in  my  hand, 
and,  letting  the  tiniest  of  rays  peep  through  its 
sheath  of  steel,  looked  caressingly  upon  the  slum 
bering  gun  to  see  if  all  was  well. 

How  I  longed  to  waken  her,  to  make  her  roar, 
and  set  all  the  batteries  to  screaming!  But  I 
must  wait,  and  as  I  w7aited,  I  leaned  my  head  upon 
her  and  looked  out  through  her  ill-defined  port 
hole  into  the  night. 

Just  to  the  right  of  Corregidor  there  lay  an  is 
land.  While  I  looked,  something  darker  than  the 
night  traced  slender  grasses  upon  its  crest,  and 
they  grew  and  grew  into  leaves  of  palm  that 
softly  fanned  the  breath  of  the  tropics  across  the 
waters. 

The  breath   of  the   tropics!     Like  vaporous 


"REMEMBER  THE  MAINE!"       221 

moon-drops  that  fall  in  honey-dew  on  certain 
plants,  it  spread  its  ooziness  over  our  naked 
bodies  and  then  it  crept  into  my  lungs  and  tried 
to  smother  me  in  the  dark;  but  the  lights  of  Ma 
nila  cut  through  the  gloom,  so  like  a  familiar  pic 
ture  that  I  had  looked  down  upon  from  a  hillside 
in  my  boyhood  that  I  let  go  the  battle  lantern, 
went  wandering  away,  away,  and  while  I  thus 
groped  through  the  past,  zigzags  of  lightning 
streaked  the  sultry  night  and  flashed  upon  my 
heart  images  that  had  grown  dim  at  sea. 

Oh,  the  faces  of  my  loved  ones,  never  before 
so  beautiful,  so  dear  to  me !  Fearlessly  they  filed 
before  the  cannon's  mouth,  each  in  his  or  her 
turn,  like  the  ghosts  of  Macbeth.  I  knew  it  was 
a  phantom  of  my  fancy  and  yet  I  wanted  to  whis 
per  good-by  to  them  as  they  passed.  I  tried  to 
clear  my  throat,  that  I  might  speak,  but  my  voice 
was  gone.  Inside  my  neck  a  cube  of  steel  incased 
a  ball  of  something  that  pressed  and  pained,  but 
would  not  be  swallowed.  I  tried  again  and  again, 
but  the  pain  crept  up  the  sides  of  my  head  and  out 
across  my  shoulders ;  so  I  turned  away  and  joined 
my  comrades,  where  stories  and  jokes  were  flying 
in  whispers,  but  no  one  spoke  again  of  the  past 
nor  of  the  morrow,  and  the  night  dragged  its  in 
terminable  hours  along. 

The  lightning  had  ceased.    From  over  the  hill- 


222  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

tops  beyond  Manila  a  sob  of  light  like  a  purpling 
mist  bespoke  the  resurrection  of  the  sun. 

At  eight  bells — four  o'clock  in  the  morning — 
coffee  was  served,  and  once  more  quarters  were 
sounded. 

At  a  pace  of  six  knots  the  Olympia  took  the 
lead,  and  with  every  man  in  the  fleet  at  his  post 
we  steamed  toward  the  mouth  of  the  Pasig  River, 
where  masts  and  spires  were  forming  silhouettes 
against  the  dawn,  which  hastened  to  show  us  our 
mistake  (they  were  foreign  merchantmen)  and 
to  disclose  the  enemy. 

The  Spanish  squadron,  protected  by  great 
booms  hung  with  chains,  and  by  lighters  of  stone 
and  water,  lay  in  line  from  Sangley  Point  to  Las 
Pinas,  and  we  swung  our  course  and  rode  into 
the  fray  (for  already  they  were  shelling  us  from 
the  forts)  with  a  leisurely  grace  of  manoeuver 
that  we  could  not  have  excelled  on  a  Presidential 
review.  And  our  hearts  were  threatening  to 
burst  from  an  intensity  of  desire  as  we  listened  to 
the  calling  of  the  ranges,  and  writhed  under  the 
order  that  passed  along  the  line,  "Hold  your  fire 
until  the  bugle  sounds." 

Two  bells  were  striking — it  was  five  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  The  amethyst  of  an  earlier  dawn 
had  paled  before  God's  golden  crest  as  it  faltered 
on  the  hilltops,  seemingly  listening  for  the  Sab- 


COMMODORE    UEWEY    ON    THE    DKIUGE    Of    THE    ul.rMI-1.4 


"REMEMBER  THE  MAINE!"       225 

bath  bells  that  for  centuries  had  greeted  its  com 
ing. 

The  sun  flashed  his  beams  like  a  benison  on  the 
breaking  of  battle-flags  from  every  flag  halyard 
of  America's  fleet,  and  her  seamen  hurrahed  until 
they  were  hoarse  as  they  slowly  continued  the  ad 
vance  and  the  orders  still  ran  down  the  line, 
"Hold  your  fire  until  the  bugle  sounds"  and  an 
eleven-inch  shell  from  the  city's  bastion  passed 
over  our  quarter-deck.  It  sounded  for  all  the 
world  like  a  heavy  freight-train  going  at  full 
speed  over  a  high  trestle,  but  it  did  no  harm.  "A 
range-finder,"  some  one  said,  and  in  the  silence 
that  followed,  every  one  was  thinking  what  might 
have  been  had  the  projectile  sped  ten  feet  lower. 
And  still  there  was  no  order  to  answer  this 
salute ! 

With  cutlass  and  revolver  buckled  about  his 
waist  every  man  was  at  his  station.  Moments 
seemed  hours.  I  sat  upon  the  gun-seat  repeating 
to  the  rhythm  of  the  engine's  throb,  "Hold  your 
fire — hold  your  fire — hold  your  fire  until  the  bu 
gle  sounds,"  while  my  fingers  grew  numb  upon 
the  spark. 

Everywhere  shells  were  flying  and  mines  were 
bursting,  while  we,  with  guns  trained  to  deal 
death  and  destruction,  were  only  on  parade. 

Through  the  peep-hole  that  held  the  hair-sight 


226  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

of  my  gun,  I  saw  the  Spanish  battle-flag  break  on 
the  enemy's  batteries,  and  we  cheered,  for  they 
had  answered  our  defiance,  and  still  the  orders 
came  faster,  "Hold  your  fire!" 

For  less  than  a  moment  I  would  close  my  eyes 
for  rest,  for  I  was  gun-pointer.  The  hair  cross 
in  the  sight  was  growing  indelible  upon  my  vision, 
and  then  in  the  calling  of  the  ranges  I  heard  dis 
tinctly,  "Twenty-one  hundred  yards,"  and  fol 
lowing  it  like  an  echo  the  bugles  sounded  "Fire!" 

My  eye  was  on  the  sight,  my  hand  upon  the 
bulb.  That  choking  thing  in  my  throat  fled  be 
fore  the  flare  of  the  bugle,  and  I  pressed  the 
spark  with  as  little  concern  as  I  was  wont  to  do  at 
target  practice. 

A  quiver  ran  through  every  nerve  of  the  ship 
as  we  on  the  pivot  guns  joining  the  starboard  bat 
tery  let  loose  a  broadside  into  the  enemy's  fleet 
and  left  the  Olympia  in  a  cloud  of  white  smoke 
that  clung  to  us  and  enveloped  us  like  a  bank  of 
fog. 

The  great  gun,  with  a  recoil  of  thirty-six 
inches,  had  belched  her  pent-up  venom.  Riding 
back  on  her  trunnions,  she  slid  again  into  battery 
as  No.  2,  with  crank  in  hand,  stepped  out  to  meet 
her;  and  for  the  first  time  it  occurred  to  me  to 
count  the  turning  of  the  crank— one— two — three 
—  four  —  five  —  six  —  seven  —  eight — nine  —  ten 


"REMEMBER  THE  MAINE!"       227 

— eleven  turns  of  the  crank  made  by  a  stalwart 
arm,  and  the  breech-block  flew  open. 

Leaning  down  from  my  seat,  I  picked  the  spent 
electric  primer  from  the  breech  and  tucked  it 
away  in  the  folds  of  the  neckerchief  tied  about 
my  head — (a  souvenir  of  the  first  shot  our  gun 
crew  fired). 

A  gentle  morning  breeze  had  fanned  away  the 
veil  of  smoke ;  and,  catching  a  glance  through  the 
gun-port,  I  saw  the  Spanish  ships  with  masts 
tilted  and  lopped  away  pouring  a  stream  of  fire 
and  steel  toward  us.  The  water  was  hissing 
from  their  contact,  and  we  cheered  the  sight 
while  the  tub  of  water  beneath  the  gun-breech 
turned  inky  from  the  swabbing.  And  up  the 
hoist  came  fresh  charges. 

The  carriage  stopped  at  the  breech.  No.  5 
shoved  in  the  shell.  Another  turn,  and  the  first 
charge  of  powder  stopped  to  follow  the  shell ;  an 
other,  and  the  second  charge;  and  the  truck  ran 
back  into  the  ammunition  room  below  as  I 
counted  eleven  turns  of  the  crank  and  the  breech 
was  again  closed  upon  a  full  charge.  The  kid 
took  a  fresh  primer  from  his  belt,  and,  adjusting 
it,  signaled  with  his  hand,  "Ready!"  and  again 
we  fired.  So  perfectly  did  each  man  know  his 
part  that  our  division  officer  had  only  to  sit  in  the 
turret  and  look  on. 


228  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

We  were  going  bow-on  toward  the  enemy 
when  the  Reina  Christina,  flag-ship,  cut  loose  her 
barge,  swung  away,  and  came  to  meet  us.  We 
cheered  her,  and  the  order  came,  "Concentrate 
your  fire  on  the  flag-ship."  We  sent  an  eight- 
inch  shell  from  stem  to  stern,  through  and 
through  her,  and  still,  like  an  enraged  panther  she 
came  at  us  as  though  to  lash  sides  and  fight  us 
hand  to  hand  with  battle-axes,  as  in  the  olden 
Spanish  wars. 

Our  ship  had  made  its  turn  and  the  port  bat 
teries  were  manned,  when  an  order  came  to  train 
the  big  guns  on  the  forts.  We  were  aching  for 
one  more  at  the  Reina,  but  our  first  shot  at  the 
fort  dismounted  one  of  her  guns,  exploded  a 
magazine,  and  set  fire  to  the  arsenal.  The  stri 
dent  echoes  of  the  explosion  sounded  through  the 
din  of  the  combat,  and  we  yelled  with  delight. 
Oh,  it  was  great!  and  again  I  turned  and  counted 
eleven  twice — when  the  breech-block  opened,  and 
when  it  closed— again  the  white  veil  shut  out  the 
picture. 

When  it  lifted  our  gun  was  out  of  training, 
and  I  had  leisure  to  look  out.  I  noticed  that  the 
admiral's  flag  was  gone  from  the  Reina  Christina 
and  that  boats  were  pulling  away  from  her, 
and  then  I  saw  the  flag  break  on  the  foremast  of 
the  Castilla.  It  was  the  signal  that  withdrew  our 


IN    THE    FIGHTING-TOP 


"REMEMBER  THE  MAINE!"       231 

attack  from  the  Reina,  and  then — great  heavens! 
what  was  it  ?  We  were  struck ! 

Under  our  own  broadsides  we  had  quivered; 
now  we  reeled,  we  careened.  Were  we  sinking? 
Had  they  fired  us?  But  the  firing  was  incessant, 
and  the  ship,  righting  herself,  was  making  the 
second  turn.  When  I  had  counted  eleven  twice 
again  it  was  all  forgotten,  and  we  were  literally 
pouring  destruction  upon  the  enemy.  The  Cas- 
tilla  was  sinking.  A  madman  (Admiral  Mon- 
tejo),  leaving  her  by  the  lee  side,  returned  to  the 
Reina  Christina  with  his  flag,  while  a  cry  arose 
on  our  ship,  "Here  comes  a  torpedo-boat !" 

"Where?" 

"There— there— here— no— there— she  's  gone 

—no,  here  she  comes the  smoke !  Where 

is  she?  There,  rounding  the  Castilla!"  and  a 
five-inch  shell  struck  her  amidship,  broke  her 
back,  and  she  went  down,  bow  and  stern  sticking 
out  of  the  water  like  a  bent  straw  with  ends  pro 
truding  from  a  goblet.  Then,  while  I  watched  a 
tattooed  fly  undulating  with  the  brawny  muscles 
on  the  back  of  No.  4  of  the  port  gun,  I  twice 
again  counted  eleven  when  a  second  torpedo-boat, 
undaunted  or  maddened  by  the  fate  of  its  sister, 
came  at  us,  and  we  drove  her  back  and  beached 
her. 

Slowly  we  advanced  upon  our  enemy ;  gallantly 


232  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

they  came  to  meet  us.  The  destruction  we  were 
dealing  grew  momentarily  more  visible,  and  when 
the  newness  of  battle  passed  (as  it  does  in  an  in 
conceivably  short  time),  I  began  to  wonder  what 
they  had  been  doing  to  us.  When  I  had  counted 
eleven  twice  again  and  our  gun  could  no  longer 
be  brought  to  bear  upon  the  enemy,  I  nerved  my 
self  to  look  into  the  dead  faces  of  my  shipmates. 
Going  up  out  of  the  turret,  I  ran  along  the  sun- 
scorched  sanded  decks  and  when  I  had  made  the 
round  I  thought  I  must  be  dreaming,  for  every 
man  was  fighting  at  his  post! 

I  stopped  to  watch  the  onset— just  as  a  projec 
tile  struck  and  burst  against  our  aft  turret.  It 
made  a  dent  like  the  concave  side  of  a  wash-bowl 
in  her  armor-plate.  A  warm  stream  trickled 
down  my  leg  as  I  felt  the  ship  turning,  and  re 
turned  to  my  gun  just  as  the  bugle  sounded, 
{' ( Cease  Firing!"  Some  one  in  crossing  the  bridge 
had  remarked  that  they  (the  enemy)  must  have 
ammunition  to  burn. 

In  the  confusion  of  noises  only  one  word, 
"Ammunition,"  caught  an  ear,  and  we  ceased  fir 
ing  and  all  steamed  out  into  the  middle  of  the  bay 
to  inventory  shells — and  incidentally  to  breakfast. 

I  found  time  to  pick  out  a  bit  of  steel  and  an 
other  of  shin-bone,  where  I  had  felt  the  warm 
blood,  and  I  bound  it  up  without  reporting  to  the 


"REMEMBER  THE  MAINE!"       233 

sick-bay.  (I  never  felt  a  pain  until  three  days 
later,  and  then  I  was  quite  unable  to  stand  upon 
the  injured  leg). 

Another  among  the  Olympics  wounded  (if  I 
dare  to  call  my  scratch  a  wound)  was  Jack 
Heeney,  the  bo's'n's  mate.  Watching  the  battle 
with  his  hand  resting  upon  a  gun-shield,  he  had 
three  fingers  shot  away.  Jack  already  wears  five 
enlistment-stripes,  and  while  his  hand  was  being 
dressed  he  anxiously  inquired  if  the  loss  of  his 
fingers  would  debar  him  from  future  enlistment. 
Not  a  bit  of  it !  It  only  set  the  seal  of  battle  upon 
him,  and  Jack  is  good  to  pipe  quarters  for  half  a 
century  to  come. 

The  Spaniards  evidently  thought  we  had  gone 
out  to  bury  our  dead,  and  while  they  thought  us 
thus  engaged,  the  batteries  on  Cavite  kept  up  an 
incessant  firing;  but  the  range  was  too  long;  we 
were  never  safer  in  our  lives ;  and  after  there  had 
been  a  conference  of  commanders  on  the  Olym 
piad  quarter-deck,  and  each  had  gone  back  to  his 
own  ship  to  report  that  not  a  man  had  been  killed 
in  the  engagement,  the  Asiatic  squadron  for  the 
moment  was  like  the  mad-houses  of  the  world 
turned  loose.  When  reason  returned,  again  our 
battle-cry,  "Remember  the  'Maine'!"  rent  the  air, 
and  we  returned  with  vigor  to  the  fray. 

We  fought  the  enemy's  line,  passing  five  times 


234  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

up  and  down  its  length  of  ships  and  forts,  cutting 
our  path  like  a  figure  8  (and  all  the  time  the  navi 
gator  was  sounding).  Whenever  our  ships 
would  meet  on  manceuver  we  would  wildly  cheer 
each  other,  although  there  was  not  a  sound  to  our 
voices,  for  it  was  lost  in  the  din  of  the  combat. 

Some  one  was  heard  to  ask  in  all  seriousness, 
"I  wonder  if  they  will  report  this  racket  in  the 
San  Francisco  papers  ?"  Of  course  they  will,  but 
I  am  wondering  who  can  tell  the  tale?  What 
words  can  paint  it  ?  Can  the  pen  tell  how  men  go 
down  in  battle? 

As  we  fought  in  line  I  saw  on  the  Mindanao's 
deck  a  creature  in  the  full  flush  and  vigor  of  life, 
silhouetted  against  the  sky.  A  Yankee  shell 
struck  him  in  the  breast.  It  was  like  a  rifle-ball 
hitting  a  blue-jay. 

I  saw  boats  freighted  with  wounded  men  go 
over  the  sides  of  sinking  ships ;  but  they  flaunted 
Spain's  flag  defiantly  at  us  and  we  shelled  them 
under;  I  saw  men  clinging  to  spars  and  floating4 
in  with  the  tide,  and  we  shot  them  to  death.  I  saw 
tongues  of  fire  licking  up  the  decks  of  the  doomed 
vessels.  These  are  but  a  few  of  the  horrors  I 
saw,  and  oh,  I  heard  such  noises !  The  dull  boom 
of  the  big  guns  and  the  spiteful  snapping  of  our 
main  batteries  mingled  with  the  clatter  of  mus 
ketry. 


ADMIRAL    DEWEY    ON    THE    AFTER-BRIDGE    OF    THE    ul.YXPU 


"REMEMBER  THE  MAINE!"      237 

Ah,  here  is  the  place  to  say  just  one  word  for 
the  poor  marines,  to  record  their  excuse  for  liv 
ing.  What  could  we  have  done  without  them? 
They  were  our  sharp-shooters,  cracking  rifles 
through  loopholes  and  sponsons,  aiming  for 
gunners  on  the  enemy's  ships.  They  were  also 
our  line  of  communication,  calling  ranges,  and 
carrying  orders  that  the  bugle  could  not  make 
heard. 

And  while  we  on  deck  were  seeing  these  things, 
what  were  the  "black-gang"  doing? 

Down  there  underneath  the  water,  in  a  fur 
nace-room  that  only  Dante  could  portray,  they 
heard  the  din  and  felt  the  shock  of  battle.  They 
could  not  see,  but  counted  the  times  we  were 
struck  (the  Olympia  received  thirteen  hits  all 
told),  and  they  stood  at  their  posts  as  though  out 
on  a  cruise,  and  ever  and  anon  in  the  hushes  a 
voice  would  call  up  through  a  ventilator  or  a 
hoist,  "How  are  you  making  it?"  An  answer 
like  "Just  sunk  another  torpedo-boat,"  or  "They 
have  abandoned  the  Reina  Christina,  and  she  is 
all  afire,"  would  drive  them  wild  with  a  joy  they 
would  make  manifest  by  beating  upon  the  fur 
nace-doors  with  their  shovels. 

When  some  one  writes  of  all  these  things  I 
hope  he  will  not  omit  mention  even  of  the  "galley- 
hatch  gang,"  they  who  long  ago  filed  the  hinge- 


238  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

screws  of  the  alcohol  chest  until  its  lock  became  a 
howling  joke,  for  with  the  ringers  the  screws 
could  be  removed  and  in  the  watches  of  the  night 
its  spirits  let  out. 

However,  the  night  before  the  battle,  after  the 
decks  were  cleared,  to  a  man  the  "old  guard"  ral 
lied  about  their  standard,  vociferously  declaring, 
"No  Dutch  courage  for  us ;  we  will  fight  a  sober 
battle."  Then,  with  something  of  the  air  that 
characterizes  a  burial  at  sea,  they  slid  the  chest 
overboard. 

It  was  in  the  very  excitement  of  war,  while  we 
were  out  beyond  the  reach  of  the  enemy's  shells, 
that  I  felt  impressed  as  never  before  with  the  per 
fect  workings  of  the  human,  as  well  as  of  the  me 
chanical,  parts  of  a  man-of-war.  While  we 
breakfasted,  Bill  Bartley  was  securing  a  piece  of 
sheet-iron  over  a  hole  a  Spanish  shell  had  put  in 
our  side,  and,  lest  the  enemy  on  our  return  might 
gloat  over  the  sight  of  our  bandaged  wound,  it 
was  even  painted  before  we  went  back  to  com 
plete  the  destruction  we  had  begun. 

I  do  not  believe  that  one  half  of  the  horrors  of 
that  day  can  ever  be  told ;  and  for  deeds  of  cour 
age  and  daring — on  our  own  ship,  in  the  hottest 
of  the  fight,  a  cleaning-stick  broke  inside  one  of 
the  main  batteries'  guns,  and  it  had  to  be  trained 
in,  in  order  to  poke  the  broken  bits  out :  it  was  its 


"REMEMBER  THE  MAINE!"       239 

officer  who  went  outside  of  the  sponson  to  do  the 
deed,  although  his  command  could  have  sent  any 
man  from  his  crew,  and  he  would  never  have 
been  thought  a  shirk  or  a  coward.  History  writes 
more  about  the  life  and  doings  of  one  monarch 
than  of  all  his  subjects,  but  that  is  no  reason  why 
I,  in  this  my  private  journal,  should  not  jot  down 
these  simple  facts  about  people  in  lowly  station. 

BEFORE  high  noon  a  white  flag  hung  from  the 
shears  on  Cavite's  wall,  and  an  hour  later,  when 
Admiral  Montejo,  under  a  similar  flag,  came  on 
board,  he  would  have  parleyed  with  the  little 
Commodore ;  but  Dewey  demanded  stoutly : 

"Do  you  surrender?" 

"Conditionally,"  was  the  answer.  "Our  cap-i- 
tan  he  die,  he  speaka  fighty— fighty  for  Spain." 

"It  's  either  surrender— or  fight!"  exclaimed 
Dewey;  and  Montejo,  bowing  with  the  air  of  a 
cavalier  of  old,  said,  "I  surrender." 

We  were  a  sorry-looking  lot  to  salute  our  col 
ors  when  they  broke  where  the  flag  of  truce  had 
hung.  Our  faces,  begrimed  with  the  smoke  of 
battle,  ran  rivulets  (born  of  the  atmosphere) 
that,  coursing  down  our  cheeks,  mingled  with  the 
saltpeter  eating  them  into  stinging  furrows. 

But  the  day  did  not  end  with  the  battle;  that 
evening  we  pulled  two  whale-boats  ashore  at 


240  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

Cavite.  Only  our  doctors  and  an  officer  landed, 
but  I  am  glad  to  have  been  one  to  sit  in  the  boat 
and  look  upon  the  picture.  It  was  not  unlike 
those  I  have  seen  of  the  Landing  of  Columbus. 
As  we  pulled  shoreward,  people  wearing  long 
robes  came  to  meet  us,  and  when  our  officers 
landed,  priests  and  nuns  knelt  at  their  feet  upon 
the  beach,  beseeching  them  for  mercy.  Some  of 
them  spoke  fair  English,  yet  it  was  with  diffi 
culty  they  were  made  to  understand  that  our  doc 
tors  had  gone  to  them  with  only  one  intent — to 
care  for  their  wounded.  The  following  morning, 
when  we  went  ashore  to  bury  their  dead,  we  sent 
for  the  Spaniards  to  come  and  identify  them,  that 
they  might  mark  and  later  claim  their  own.  Only 
a  few  came.  The  Spaniard  can  reason  only  from 
his  own  standard,  and  undoubtedly  suspected 
treachery  on  our  part. 

Many  and  varied  have  been  the  tasks  I  have 
encountered;  but  to  actually  assist  in  the  burial 
of  the  enemy — that  was  the  climax.  It  was  not 
a  funeral  where  muffled  drum  and  the  perfume  of 
sweet  flowers  add  to  the  solemnity  while  it  takes 
away  from  death  some  of  its  sting. 

They  lay  like  wreckage  upon  the  beach,  washed 
in  from  the  sunken,  burning  ships.  Does  the 
dead  enemy  rate  any  honor?  They  were  one  by 
one  (when  not  beyond  handling)  stood  upon 


li    CHEERliU    THEM    AS    THEY    SANK. 


"REMEMBER  THE  MAINE!"       243 

their  heads,  not  in  derision,  but  as  a  precaution 
ary  means  of  preventing  the  burial  of  treasure. 
Pictures,  coins,  and  rosaries  rained  upon  the 
shore,  and  after  this  final  preparation  for  rest 
they  were  placed  side  by  side,  hundreds  in  a  row, 
in  the  trenches  we  had  dug  in  the  sands  above  the 
wash  of  the  tide.  Then  in  the  night  the  wild  hogs 
came,  rooting  the  mangled  corpses  out  of  their 
graves,  and  we  had  to  do  it  all  over  again — do  it 
under  the  glare  of  a  tropical  sun,  or  in  the  fury  of 
a  tropical  thunder-storm.  Ugh ! 

"WHAT  was  it  like,  that  battle?"  do  you  ask? 

The  thunders  of  heaven  would  have  been  lost 
in  its  din.  It  was  fierce  and  fast,  like  the  rolling 
of  all  the  drums  in  the  world,  or  like  bolts  of 
heavy  sail-cloth  torn  into  shreds  by  the  wind. 

What  a  picture  it  would  make — that  battle,  the 
last  of  the  Spanish  fleet,  the  Don  Antonio  de 
Ulloa.  She  fought,  sinking  a  foot  a  minute.  Gun 
after  gun  went  under,  and  when  the  last  onset 
was  made,  only  her  bow  gun  remained.  Its  crew, 
waist  deep  in  water,  fought  as  though  victory 
were  crowning  them.  It  was  theirs  to  fire  the 
last  gun  upon  that  eventful  day,  and  we  cheered 
them  as  they  sank. 

These  are  the  things  men  will  write  about,  but 
memory  alone  can  oaint  a  picture  so  terrible  that 


244  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

the  moon,  that  old  night-watch  of  the  universe, 
hid  behind  friendly  vapors  that  she  might  not  see 
the  embers  of  war  as  they  glared  through  the 
port-holes  and  sponsons  of  half-sunken  ships, 
while  ever  and  anon  exploding  magazines  would 
tear  the  waters,  and  livid  flames  of  yellow  and  of 
red  flaunted  above  all  that  was  left  of  Spain's 
wreckage. 

Surely  Wellington  was  a  Solomon  when  he 
wrote : 

"Nothing  except  a  battle  lost,  can  be  half  so 
melancholy  as  a  battle  won." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

UNCLE  SAM  DRAWS  A  PRIZE SHORT  RATIONS- 
SPIKING   GUNS— AGUINALDO 

UNCLE  SAM  knows  a  prize  when  he  draws 
one ;  since  the  tenth  of  .May  our  main  truck 
again  flaunts  two  stars.  Promises  of  a  sword 
for  our  gallant  hero  and  of  medals  for  us  have 
been  made  by  Congress,  while  what  we  need 
more  than  trophies — ammunition  and  reinforce 
ments — are  on  the  way. 

Since  the  burial  of  Adam,  sailors  have  been 
averse  to  soldiers'  work,  but  we  have  been  forced 
beautifully  down  to  it,  and  it  has  brought  new 
experiences  into  our  lives.  Think  of  sailors  tak 
ing  a  piano  and  carrying  it  for  three  miles  after 
hoisting  it  over  a  stone  wall!  When  we  had 
landed  it  in  shipshape  at  the  water's  edge,  one  of 
our  officers  came  along  and  said,  "Good!  We 
will  have  it  in  our  ward-room." 

In  the  ward-room!  Not  on  your  life !  He  was 
no  sooner  out  of  sight  than  the  souvenir  battle- 
axes  we  were  bearing  were  wielded  with  a  vim 
that  reduced  an  upright  Steinway  to  a  condition 

245 


246  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

that  Frank  May  would  have  scorned  as  kindling 
for  the  galley-fire. 

Frank  May !  I  '11  never  forget  him.  He  is  the 
fellow  who  ate  Rough  on  Rats  over  in  Yokohama, 
and  he  is  still  at  his  post  in  the  galley,  and  still  as 
regularly  as  Saturday  comes  around  he  goes 
through  a  stunt  that,  only  for  the  seriousness  of 
his  mien,  would  be  truly  ludicrous.  Old  Frank 
goes  to  the  armory  and  gets  a  rifle  loaded  with  a 
blank  cartridge,  then,  like  a  sentry  on  duty, 
marches  down  the  deck  and  into  the  galley,  where 
with  mumbling  and  muttering  he  shoots  into  the 
galley's  smoke-stack,  ostensibly  to  clear  it  of 
soot;  but  the  exultant  "There,  you  black  blankety 
blank,  how  do  you  like  that?"  which  invariably 
closes  the  scene  is  at  least  circumstantial  evidence 
that  he  has  again  shot  "Charley  Noble." 

But  back  to  the  piano:  its  destruction  engen 
dered  much  feeling,  but  as  the  real  name  of  its 
acquisition  could  only  be  spelled  1-o-o-t,  there  was 
no  complaint  entered  by  the  officer  who  would 
have  appropriated  it,  and  the  sailormen's  disap 
pointment  was  solaced  by  Chaplain  Father 
Reamy,  who  bought  a  piano  and  presented  it  to 
the  gun-deck.  That  priest  is  truly  paving  him 
self  a  path  to  heaven  by  deeds  of  generosity. 
Every  year  he  spends  more  than  his  pay  on 
amusement  for  the  boys. 


SHORT  RATIONS  249 

In  the  very  rush  of  the  Curio  Vintage,  after 
going  through  the  different  stages  of  gathering 
and  casting  away  for  better  fruits,  twenty  of  us 
clubbed  together,  and  by  our  combined  efforts 
succeeded  in  getting  a  dandy  little  three-inch 
field-piece  on  board,  intending  to  raffle  it,  that 
one  out  of  the  score  might  carry  home  with  him 
a  souvenir  worth  while.  But  the  powers  that 
rule  have  taken  it,  and  will  present  it  with  their 
compliments  to  our  godmother  the  City  of 
Olympia.  Bah! 

And  we  are  bearing  these  indignities  on  short 
rations— government  straight— which  in  the 
present  instance  means  hardtack  so  full  of  weevil 
that  it  would  be  an  insult  to  the  canine  race  to 
substitute  it  for  puppy  biscuit ! 

Uncle  Sam  is  not  doing  it  with  malicious  in 
tent.  This  war  came  on  suddenly,  and  we  were 
completely  cut  off  from  fresh  supplies  while  in 
Mirs  Bay,  and  it  really  can't  very  well  be  helped. 
I  recall  one  morning  when  our  supplies  had  run 
so  low  that  the  cook  of  Mess  No.  3  threw  a  pair 
of  boxing-gloves  and  some  dumb-bells  at  us  as 
he  had  nothing  else  to  serve  with  our  coffee.  It 
was  when  we  were  reduced  to  this,  and  before  we 
had  grown  to  look  upon  a  banana  and  a  cigarette 
as  a  Philippine  breakfast,  that  Sir  Edward  Chi- 
chester,  the  British  admiral,  signaled  to  us, 


250  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

"Send  your  boats  alongside  for  fresh  provisions/' 
The  laws  of  neutrality  kept  us  from  accepting  this 
offer,  but  whenever  we  have  occasion  to  go  along 
side  the  British  ships  in  our  boats,  when  our  offi 
cers  are  calling,  the  English  sailors  invariably 
pass  us  out  supplies. 

There  is  a  bounteous  crop  of  cocoanuts  and 
mangoes  growing  inside  the  Navy  Yard,  and  we 
have  learned  to  eat  the  former  in  a  semi-liquid 
state.  It  carries  me  back  to  the  days  when  I  ate 
raw  eggs,  not  because  I  liked  them,  but  because 
it  was  one  way  of  showing  my  masculine  supe 
riority  over  my  sister. 

A  taste  for  mangoes  is  an  acquired  one,  and 
although  realizing  there  is  only  one  place  where 
they  could  be  eaten  with  any  degree  of  decency— 
that  is,  in  a  bath-tub— I  am  really  fond  of  them. 

We  are  cautioned  to  drink  no  water  ashore, 
and  with  a  guard  at  the  gate  how  is  Jack  expected 
to  quench  his  thirst? 

German  export  is  cheaper  here  by  the  bottle 
than  by  the  schooner  at  home,  but  is  much  more 
difficult  to  get. 

"Eeny-meeny-miny-mo,Catch-a-nigger-by-the- 
toe;  If -he-holler  s-let-him-go-  O.U.T.  out." 

The  second  out  commissioned  me  one  of  three 
who  were  to  go  out  and  bring  in  a  sackful  of  bot 
tles. 


SHORT  RATIONS  251 

From  the  ship  we  had  marked  a  little  cove  in 
the  wall  of  Cavite's  fortification,  and  we  chose  it 
as  probably  available  for  an  exit. 

Seamen  are  good  climbers.  Reaching  the  top, 
we  picked  a  loose  stone  from  the  wall  and  dropped 
it  outside.  A  dull,  echoless  thud  confirmed  our 
hopes :  it  was  above  the  water-line,  high  and  dry. 
It  is  immaterial  who  jumped  first,  but  simultane 
ously  we  grasped  the  situation:  our  bared  feet 
had  struck  neither  sand  nor  stone,  but  dead  bod 
ies,  over  which  we  ran  and  stumbled  through  a 
darkness  that  at  intervals  yielded  to  flashes  of 
lightning  revealing  the  garish  eyes  of  dead  men 
leering  at  us. 

Probably  on  the  day  of  the  battle  they  were 
wounded  and  brought  to  this  little  haven  of  ref 
uge,  and  later  left  to  die. 

We  got  the  beer  and  were  obliged  to  return  as 
we  had  gone,  it  being  the  only  place  where  a 
latch-string  hung  out  for  us.  Before  returning, 
however,  we  thoroughly  discussed  the  question 
whether  we  should  report  our  discovery.  For  two 
excellent  reasons  we  decided  to  leave  the  whole 
matter  to  Time.  Already  \ve  have  noticed  crows 
circling  above  that  part  of  the  wall,  and  some  day 
(I  hope  it  may  be  after  we  are  gone)  some  one  will 
find  human  skeletons  bleaching  there  in  the  sun. 

It  is  part  of  war's  destruction,  "When  unable 


252  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

to  capture,  spike  your  enemy's  guns."  The  port 
at  Cavite  was  equipped  with  a  battery  of  the  lat 
est  improved  Krupp  cannon,  every  one  of  which 
we  wound  with  a  bandage  of  guncotton.  Gun- 
cotton  looks  just  like  cube  sugar  strung  on  copper 
wire.  When  each  gun  had  a  string  of  it  around 
its  middle  we  switched  on  the  current  and  the 
deed  was  done.  They  were  effectually  choked, 
resembling  long  rolls  of  butter  that  had  been 
grasped  between  the  thumb  and  finger,  leaving 
an  encircling  depression.  Of  course  it  was  a 
shame  and  a  pity,  just  as  it  was  a  pity  and  a 
shame  to  treat  the  Mindanao  as  we  did. 

She  was  a  beautiful  transport,  fresh  from 
Spain,  her  cargo  still  aboard,  and  during  the  bat 
tle  she  had  been  run  up  on  the  shoals  off  Las 
Pines  and  abandoned.  That  very  day,  before  the 
sun  had  set,  as  if  our  engines  were  playing  "Be 
hold  El  Capitan!"  we  steamed  out  and  our  for- 
'ard  turrets  sent  two  8-inch  shells  full  length, 
clean  through  and  through  her,  then  whirled  ma 
jestically  and  repeated  the  salute  from  our  aft 
turrets. 

In  the  morning  she  was  still  there,  and  we  sent 
the  little  Concord  out  to  set  her  on  fire.  She 
burned  for  a  week,  and  I  never  looked  toward  her 
devouring  flames  without  wondering  how  much 
provision  they  were  consuming ;  but  we  are  obey- 


SPIKING  GUNS  253 

ing  orders.  They  distinctly  read,  "Engage  and 
destroy" 

Among  the  many  escapades  ashore  there  is  the 
one  that  canonized  Connelly  a  martyr,  and  that 
will  not  be  written  in  "The  Bounding  Billow" 
(for  there  it  would  be  given  away,  while  here  it 
remains  a  secret) . 

Doing  garrison  duty  in  the  yard,  a  consuming 
thirst  drove  a  gang  of  us  out  in  search  of  liquid 
refreshment,  and  as  we  were  scurrying  back  with 
our  prize,  under  the  first  darkness  of  the  night, 
an  officer,  who  was  carrying  singly  and  unaided 
a  heavier  "load"  than  we  were  packing  for  the 
crowd,  discovered  us  and  called,  "Halt!"  Too 
well  we  knew  what  the  obeying  of  that  order 
would  bring  us,  and,  realizing  that  we  were  not 
to  be  recognized,  took  to  our  legs.  To  our  aston 
ishment  the  valiant  officer  fired  two  shots  after 
us.  One  of  them  hit  Connelly  in  the  leg,  and 
that  's  what  made  him  a  martyr.  It  was  a  nasty 
wound.  His  shipmates  dressed  it  and  antisepti- 
cally  bandaged  it.  They  performed  all  of  his 
tasks  that  it  is  possible  for  one  man  to  do  for  an 
other,  and  although  at  times  the  fellow  suffered 
intensely,  he  was  always  at  muster,  and  never 
with  a  telltale  limp. 

The  other  side  of  the  page  is  this:  The  scrub 
who  fired  at  us  followed  far  enough  to  find  a  trail 


254  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

of  blood  on  the  cement  pavement.  Then,  going 
out  to  the  ship,  he  warned  them  in  the  sick-bay 
and  dispensary  to  look  out  for  a  man  who  would 
come  in  to  report  a  shot  in  the  leg.  Unquestion 
ably  he  felt  valorous  until  the  admiral  got  after 
him.  I  hear  he  roasted  him  brown.  "Would  you 
shoot  your  own  men  in  time  of  war?"  he  asked, 
then  showed  him  the  chances  he  was  taking;  for 
these  are  the  days  when  every  man,  from  the  ad 
miral  down,  wears  a  38-caliber  Colt  at  his  side. 

LONG,  long  ago,  in  the  days  when  the  sea  was  so 
new  to  me  that  I  wrote  of  nothing  else,  there  came 
an  incident  that,  in  looking  backward,  looms  up  as 
one  of  the  funniest  of  my  varied  experiences. 

I  was  working  in  a  groove  that  brought  me 
every  morning  early  on  the  quarter-deck  to  polish 
the  brass  rims  of  the  air-ports  to  the  captain's 
cabin.  One  morning  when  I  came,  Smithy  was 
there  before  me,  quaffing  nectar  from  a  crystal 
decanter.  He  held  it  toward  me,  saying,  "Come 
on,  Jack,  take  a  drink  of  your  Uncle's  best."  And 
so  I  did,  and  so  we  both  continued  to  do  every 
morning  that  Captain  Reed  left  it  within  our 
reach  through  the  port-hole.  But  as  all  things 
come  to  him  who  waits,  Langly,  on  whom  we  had 
blown  our  scented  breath  and  mysteriously  inti 
mated  to  him  that  we  owned  a  barrel  of  the  stuff 


SPIKING  GUNS  255 

but  were  not  giving  any  away,  looked  over  from 
the  superstructure  deck  and  caught  us  in  the  act. 
Then  the  jig  was  up.  The  following  morning 
Langly  was  first  at  the  hole.  When  we  came  in 
sight  he  was  standing  with  his  arm  thrust  inside 
the  port-hole,  and  he  had  turned  so  pale  that  I 
thought  he  was  going  to  faint  at  sight  of  us ;  but 
in  a  twinkling  we  all  knew  that  Captain  Reed  had 
set  a  trap ;  an  orderly  was  holding  Langly's  arm  as 
in  a  vise,  and  he  spent  many  days  in  the  brig  doing 
time  for  the  whisky  Smithy  and  I  had  drunk. 

THERE  is  a  two-hundred-years'  accumulation  of 
cannon  in  the  Navy  Yard.  Long  and  short,  great 
and  small,  they  are  piled  like  cord-wood  and 
strung  out  like  fence-rails.  Some  of  them  are  so 
elaborately  carved  they  would  make  handsome 
ornaments  for  home  parks  and  museums. 

Poor  sailors" of  Spain!  It  was  not  from  lack 
of  war's  appliances  that  they  were  vanquished 
It  is  told  of  them  that  when  they  went  to  their 
guns  to  fire,  they  actually  flinched,  just  from  the 
strangeness  of  the  act,  while  every  hour  of  drill 
we  have  gone  through,  and  every  pound  of  pow 
der  we  have  burned,  has  demonstrated  beyond  a 
proposition  that  Uncle  Sam  has  been  casting  his 
bread  upon  the  waters. 

Perhaps  we  may  have  another  scrap,  one  not 


256  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

down  on  the  program,  for  we  have  a  leader  who 
is  not  going  to  wait  even  for  an  order  from 
Washington  if  an  emergency  arises,  and  it  looks 
as  though  that  part  of  Germany  which  is  floating 
about  here  were  looking  for  trouble.  They  are 
up  to  all  kinds  of  annoyances,  even  having  gone 
so  far  as  to  turn  their  search-lights  upon  our 
boats  at  night,  for  no  other  comprehensible  rea 
son  than  that  of  disclosing  us  to  our  enemy. 
Dewey  got  a  mad  on  the  other  day  and  formally 
sent  his  compliments  to  Admiral  von  Diederichs, 
with  the  message  that  he  was  "getting  altogether 
too  active."  The  square-head  took  the  hint  and 
piped  down. 

While  men  have  come  and  men  have  gone,  I 
still  hang  my  hammock  on  hook  No.  2149,  which 
is  in  the  first  row  aft  in  the  starboard  gangway 
on  the  gun-deck.  As  all  greetings  and  farewells 
are  spoken  at  the  starboard  gangway,  I  have  lis 
tened  to  much  chit-chat  between  our  admiral  and 
visiting  officers.  Once  when  a  German  captain 
came  to  confer  with  him  his  answer  was,  "It 
takes  an  admiral  to  talk  with  me."  Bully  for 
Dewey ! 

I  HAVE  grown  well  acquainted  (by  sight)  with 
Aguinaldo,  the  insurgent  general,  who  has  be 
come  a  frequent  visitor  on  board.  In  appearance 


AGUINALDO  259 

he  resembles  a  small  mulatto  boy  playing  soldier 
with  a  man's  sword  dragging  at  his  heels ;  but  it 
is  not  for  me  to  criticize  his  appearance,  for  it 
was  he  who  presented  us  with  twenty  bullocks, 
which  gave  rise  to  the  question  of  ways  and 
means  for  converting  them  into  beef. 

Tom  Reed,  a  butcher  by  trade  before  he  came 
to  sea,  got  the  job  and  called  for  assistants.  I 
begged,  and  he  let  me  in  on  it.  When  the  officer- 
of-the-deck  asked  me  how  long  I  had  worked  at 
the  butcher  trade  I  unblushingly  answered,  "Four 
years."  I  think  I  detected  a  smile,  but  he  de 
tached  me  with  the  killing  party  ashore,  where 
Tom  thought  it  funny  to  make  me  shoot  all 
twenty.  It  was  like  murder.  I  felt  no  compunc 
tion  when  mowing  down  human  beings  with  an 
8-inch  gun,  but  this  butcher  business  was  sick 
ening  despite  the  fact  that  it  served  us  the  first 
fresh  meat  we  have  had  here. 

Would  it  be  discourteous  to  remark  that  the 
tropics  raise  better  fruit  than  beef  ? 

Yesterday  morning  on  wakening  I  immediately 
recalled  that  it  was  the  twenty-fourth  of  June. 
Taking  some  extra  pains  in  my  dressing,  before 
quarters,  I  went  to  the  mast,  saluted,  and  said,  "I 
beg  to  report  the  expiration  of  my  enlistment, 


sir." 


"Do  you  want  to  ship  over?" 


260  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

As  I  answered  in  the  negative,  the  conversa 
tion  abruptly  ended.  I  must  have  been  vaguely 
expecting  they  would  offer  me  command  of  the 
captured  Callao  if  I  would  only  stay. 

The  captured  Callao!  She  came  in  two  weeks 
after  the  battle  wholly  ignorant  of  the  fate  of  the 
Maine,  and  came  to  only  after  three  shots  had 
crossed  her  bow  and  the  top  of  her  mainmast  car 
ried  away.  Of  all  the  lightning  changes  I  have 
ever  known,  that  of  the  Callao  "takes  the  cake!" 
At  eight  o'clock  one  morning  she  was  a  Spanish 
gunboat;  before  ten  the  Stars  and  Stripes  floated 
from  her  stern  and  a  skeleton  crew  of  U.  S.  sea 
men  were  established  aboard  her. 

I  shall  never  forget  how  the  tears  rolled  down 
her  captain's  cheeks  when,  in  answer  to  his  ques 
tion,  "Where  is  the  Spanish  fleet  ?"  a  finger  indi 
cated  its' shattered  hulks  and  spars  sticking  out  of 
the  water.  Slowly  it  all  dawned  upon  him,  and 
he  replied,  "Then  I  suppose  I  am  a  prisoner,"  and 
surrendered. 

Before  quitting  the  ship  Dewey  caused  him  to 
pay  off  his  men  from  the  revenues  he  had  col 
lected,  knowing  that  otherwise  they  would  never 
get  their  wages.  He  then  paroled  him  with  his 
crew,  sending  them  with  an  escort  through  our 
lines.  It  is  reported  that  he  has  been  shot  by  his 
countrymen  for  not  fighting  his  ship. 


AGUINALDO  261 

What  was  I  saying  about  remaining?  Am  I 
not  enlisted  for  three  years,  not  to  exceed  five? 
I  would  not  leave  now  if  I  could,  but  I  shall  be 
glad  when  the  soldiers  come. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

PICKET    DUTY  —  "YOU  ?RE    ADRIFT!"  —  TATTOOED-- 
TIRED  AND  SLEEPY 

DOING  picket  duty  on  the  wall,  I  saw  a  Span 
iard  rise  out  of  a  trench,  sight  down  the 
barrel  of  his  Mauser  and  aim  directly  at  me. 
Dropping  behind,  I  laid  my  cap  on  top  of  the  wall 
and  stepped  aside  just  in  time  to  hear  a  bullet 
whizz  above  my  cap.  In  quick  succession  two 
more  followed,  each  a  little  nearer  to  the  target. 
Then,  remembering  orders,  I  knew  it  was  my 
turn.  I  fired  only  once.  It  was  not  answered,  so 
I  put  on  my  cap  and  got  back  on  the  wall,  but  did 
not  go  to  look  inside  the  trench.  I  did  not  want  to. 

The  climate  of  Hawaii  is  cool  and  balmy  com 
pared  with  this.  Our  scant  raiment  clings  to  our 
bodies  like  sticky  fly-paper  to  Bill  Nye's  cat.  To 
go  in  swimming  would  be  like  throwing  shark 
bait  into  the  surf. 

Heretofore  when  in  port  during  the  summer 
months,  each  man  has  paid  ten  cents  a  month 
over  to  the  Second  Class  master-at-arms.  At  all 
times  it  is  he  who  keeps  the  scuttle-butt  filled  with 

262 


PICKET  DUTY  263 

distilled  water.  With  this  small  tax  he  buys  ice, 
which  is  delivered  from  the  shore,  and  we  have 
iced  drinking-water.  But  here,  where,  of  all 
places  we  need  it  most,  it  is  not  to  be  bought. 

The  ship's  converters  grind  day  and  night,  and 
the  clinking  of  glasses  in  the  ward-room  and  on 
the  quarter-deck  makes  me  feel  like  the  rich  man 
in  Hades. 

An  idea !  I  am  not  a  frequent  attendant  at 
church,  but  if  the  sky-pilot,  like  Casey's  band, 
would  declare  himself  from  the  bulletin  board, 
announcing  that  he  would  preach  a  sermon  taken 
from  St.  Luke,  the  sixteenth  chapter  and  twenty- 
fifth  verse:  "But  Abraham  said,  Son,  remember 
that  thou  in  thy  lifetime  receivedst  thy  good 
things,  and  likewise  Lazarus  evil  things ;  but  now 
he  is  comforted,  and  thou  art  tormented."  I  be 
lieve  there  would  not  be  standing-room  for  the 
congregation,  and  am  inclined  still  further  to  be 
lieve  that  at  least  the  ice  now  wasted  after  cool 
ing  glasses  for  cocktails  might  be  husbanded  and 
put  into  the  scuttle-butt. 

I  verily  believe  we  could  not  live  were  it  not 
for  the  water  monkeys  we  are  forced  to  make.  A 
string  soaked  in  kerosene  is  tied  about  a  bottle's 
neck,  set  fire  to,  and  while  burning  thrust  into 
water.  It  makes  a  cut  as  keen  and  smooth  as  a 
diamond.  This  neck,  or  mouth-piece,  is  sewed 


14 


264  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

into  one  corner  of  a  canvas  bag  that  will  contain 
about  two  gallons.  The  one  I  pull  from  hangs  in 
the  aft  turret  No.  i.  The  evaporation  through 
the  mesh  of  the  canvas  cools  the  water  to  a  de 
gree,  and  from  the  glass  neck  we  all  drink,  the 
man  emptying  it  being  the  one  to  take  it  to  the 
scuttle-butt  and  replenish. 

THUNDER  and  lightning!  Is  it  like  unto  battle, 
or  is'battle  like  a  thunder-storm  ?  Though  unable 
to  decide,  I  readily  recall  a  night  when  we  were 
cruising  about,  just  outside  Manila  Bay,  I  stood 
in  the  yards  of  the  mainmast  in  the  darkness  of 
Erebus.  I  felt  as  if  the  world  were  an  eggshell 
and  our  ship  the  only  thing  in  that  world.  Then, 
from  away  off  in  the  great,  unfathomable  uni 
verse,  a  peal  of  thunder  would  split  the  shell,  let 
ting  in  a  chain  of  jagged  lightning  just  where  the 
sky  and  water  met. 

On  one  of  these  little  cruises  the  watch  aloft 
one  morning  reported  "Water-spout  ahoy!"  It 
was  the  familiar  old  picture  out  of  the  geography. 
The  quartermaster  said,  "You  may  never  see  an 
other,  boys.  Take  a  shot  at  it."  A  single  shot 
from  a  six-pounder  broke  it  into  a  spray  that, 
mingling  with  the  waves,  rolled  peacefully  on. 

On  the  morning  of  the  battle  (try  as  I  may,  it 
seems  I  cannot  get  away  from  that  day)  Captain 


PICKET  DUTY 


265 


Gridley  was  so  ill  that  the  little  commodore  of 
fered  to  excuse  him  from  duty ;  but,  gallantly,  as 
is  characteristic  of  the  man,  he  replied,  "Thank 
you,  Commodore  Dewey,  but  she  is  my  ship  and  I 
will  fight  her."  And 
he  did,  although, 
figuratively  speak 
ing,  he  was  a  dead 
man  before  he  went 
on  the  bridge,  and 
days  had  strung 
themselves  into  but 
few  weeks  when  he 
was  ordered  home  on 

He  came 

his  cabin 

dressed  in  civilian 
clothes  and  was  met 
by  the  rear-admiral, 
who  extended  him 
a  most  cordial  hand. 
A  look  of  troubled  disappointment  flitted  across 
the  captain's  brow,  but  vanished  when  he  stepped 
to  the  head  of  the  gangway  and,  looking  over, 
saw,  not  the  launch,  but  a  twelve-oared  cutter 
manned  entirely  by  officers  of  the  Olympia. 
There  were  men  in  that  boat  who  had  not  pulled 
a  stroke  for  a  quarter  of  a  century. 


sick-leave, 
up  out  of 


"WATER-SPOUT  AHOY!" 


266  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

Old  Glory  was  at  the  stern  and  a  captain's 
silken  coach-whip  at  the  bow;  and  when  Captain 
Gridley,  beloved  alike  by  officers  and  men,  en 
tered  the  boat,  it  was  up  oars,  and  all  that,  just  as 
though  they  were  common  sailors  who  were  to 
row  him  over  to  the  Zafiro.  When  he  sat  down 
upon  the  handsome  boat-cloth  that  was  spread 
for  him,  he  bowed  his  head,  and  his  hands 
hid  his  face  as  First-Lieutenant  Reese,  acting 
coxswain,  ordered,  "Shove  off;  out  oars;  give 
away !" 

Later  in  the  day  the  lookout  on  the  bridge  re 
ported,  "Zafiro  under  way,  sir,"  and  '.the  deck 
officer  passed  on  the  word  until  a  little  twitter 
from  Pat  Murray's  pipe  brought  all  the  other 
boVns  around  him,  and  in  concert  they  sang  out, 
"Stand  by  to  man  the  rigging!" 

Not  the  Olympic,  alone,  but  every  other  ship  in 
the  squadron  dressed  and  manned,  and  the  last 
we  ever  saw  of  our  dear  captain  he  was  sitting 
on  a  chair  out  on  the  Zafiro's  quarter-deck,  ap 
parently  "listening  to  the  old  band  play."  A 
week  later  a  cablegram  told  us  that  he  never 
reached  home,  having  died  on  the  fifth  of  June  on 
board  the  Coptic.  The  grief  that  filled  our  hearts 
abated  not,  even  when  the  prescribed  time  for 
mourning  had  passed  and  the  flags  were  released 
from  half-mast. 


"YOU  'RE  ADRIFT"  267 

There  is  another  we  miss;  but  it  was  but  the 
shifting  of  officers,  which  is  like  unto  the  shifting 
of  the  sands  on  the  shore,  that  took  Lieutenant 
Delano  from  us.  The  last  we  saw  of  him,  he 
stood  at  the  stern  of  the  launch,  dandling  in  his 
hand  a  fob  that  hung  from  a  gold  watch  (a  part 
ing  gift  from  the  crew)  while  the  band  lustily 
played  "Nancy  Lee."  We  loved  that  man,  and 
feel  that  had  he  been  lieutenant  commander  on 
the  first  of  May,  the  men  who  were  taken  .from 
the  brig  to  fight  for  their  flag  (I  was  not  one  of 
them)  would  never  have  been  sent  back  to  serve 
out  their  sentence  after  the  battle,  and  for  the 
credit  of  our  navy  I  am  glad  that  it  will  not  be 
.written  in  our  history,  and  am  already  half 
ashamed  that  I  have  written  it  even  in  this,  the 
chronicles  of  a  diddy-box ;  but  I  cease  to  blush  for 
this  as  I  glow  with  pride  in  making  note  that 
since  the  battle  not  an  hour's  drill  have  we  done. 
The  admiral  says  we  have  proved  that  we  do  not 
need  it. 

While  there  are  always  ground-swells*  off  Ca- 
vite,  sometimes  they  grow  heavier  than  at  others. 
It  was  when  they  were  doing  their  worst  that  I 
lay  under  the  awning  in  the  storm  sheets  of  the 
admiral's  launch,  on  duty  during  dinner-hour. 
She  was  riding  tied  to  the  boom,  and  I  doing 
nothing  but  swelter  and  wait  my  turn  for  chow, 


268  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

when  I  heard  a  voice  calling,   "In  the  barge, 
there!" 

"Aye,  aye,  sir." 
"You  're  adrift." 

I  came  to,  started  the  engine,  and  tried  to  steer 
back  to  the  ship,  but  a  squall  had  suddenly  come 
up,  and  I  could  not  manage  her.  The  orders 
shouted  from  the  bridge  grew  indistinct,  then  in 
audible,  and  I  could  hear  nothing  but  the  ele 
ments.  For  two  hours 
I  worked  with  that 
launch,  climbing  back 
and  forth  over  the 
thwarts,  firing  or 
working  her  rudder, 
as  she  pitched  and 
rolled,  frequently 
carrying  me  danger 
ously  near  the  ene 
my's  line.  The  glasses  were  upon  me,  and 
finally  realizing  the  futility  of  my  attempts  to  get 
back  to  the  ship,  they  signaled  tome,  "Go ashore." 
I  fired  her  well  up  and  let  her  go.  As  I  drew  near 
the  landing  I  steered  from  casco  to  casco,  strik 
ing  sidelong  blows  that  set  them  dancing  on  the 
water  as  they  retarded  my  speed,  and  then  I 
finally  achieved  a  landing.  Filled  with  pride  at  my 
success  as  a  mariner  and  a  navigator,  I  raked  the 


THE  ADMIRAL'S  LAUNCH 


TATTOOED  269 

fire  all  out  and  tied  her  up.  She  was  safe  and 
sound  and  I  knew  it.  I  was  indeed  weary,  hav 
ing,  single-handed  and  alone,  in  the  face  of  a 
tropical  squall,  performed  the  task  of  five  men. 

To  me,  the  feat  looked  worth  a  glass  of  beer, 
and  I  went  after  it,  not  knowing  that  simulta 
neously  with  signaling  me  to  go  ashore,  a  whale- 
boat  had  started  after  me,  carrying  the  remain 
der  of  the  launch's  crew ;  but  I  was  soon  to  know 
that  they  reached  the  launch  before  I  got  back  to 
it,  the  consequence  being  that  instead  of  a  medal 
in  commemoration  of  a  brave  and  daring  deed  I 
got  five  days  in  the  brig  on  bread  and  water. 
However,  having  long  since  grown  callous  to 
these  little  courtesies,  I  embraced  the  opportunity 
to  have  tattooed — not  a  star  upon  my  forehead; 
but  when  my  earthly  cruise  shall  end  and  my  tired 
hands  lay  folded  upon  my  breast,  they  will  rest 
upon  crossed  cannon  wrapped  in  the  Stars  and 
Stripes ;  while  the  American  eagle,  holding  in  his 
beak  a  banner  with  the  inscription,  "Manila, 
May  i,  1898,"  will  hover  above  a  bursting  shell 
through  whose  fire  and  smoke  rides  the  glorious 
United  States  Flag-ship  Olympia. 

WHEN  I  walk  with  myself,  I  talk  with  myself, 
and  myself  says  unto  me,  "Jack,  if  you  were  to 
pass  a  sentence  of  revenge  upon  your  worst 


270  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

enemy,  and  you  wanted  to  inflict  the  greatest  tor 
ture  your  mind  could  conceive,  what  would  it  be?" 
Unhesitatingly  I  answer,  "Deprive  him  of  sleep." 

The  action  of  battle  is  inspiring.  A  typhoon 
with  all  its  terror  gives  you  a  struggle  for  your 
life.  But  since  the  battle,  with  doing  garrison 
duty  on  shore  in  addition  to  double  watches  on 
ship,  I  have  come  from  the  lookout,  fixing  my 
eyes  six  feet  ahead  of  me  where  I  was  to  drop  for 
my  rest,  when  it  seemed  absolutely  that  /  could 
not  live  until  I  reached  the  spot. 

Papers  from  the  States  show  that  this  war  is 
giving  birth  to  heroes,  and  the  sailormen  of  the 
Asiatic  Squadron,  if  they  might  have  a  voice, 
would  beg  to  say  that  Navigator  Calkins  should 
be  known  to  all  Americans  as  The  Path-finder 
into  Manila. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

JUNE    3OTH— JULY    l6TH  — GENERAL    MERRITT- 
AUGUST   I4TH — A  TARPAULIN   MUSTER 

ON  June  3Oth  the  Charlie,  accompanied  by  three 
troop-ships,  arrived.  It  relieved  us  from 
garrison  duty,  but  the  manning  of  the  Nansen 
and  Zafiro  before  we  left  Hong-Kong,  together 
with  skeleton  crews  for  the  captured  Callao  and 
the  launches  we  are  using  for  river  service,  leaves 
us  short-handed  on  all  the  ships ;  but  for  a'  that 
on  the  eighth  of  July  the  Concord  and  Raleigh 
had  a  picnic  in  Subig  Bay,  and  remained  in  pos 
session  of  Isle  Grande,  near  Manila. 

On  the  sixteenth  a  cold-storage  ship  from  Aus 
tralia  came  in  with  a  handsome  cargo,  which  the 
admiral  bought  on  sight.  It  was  the  first  fit  beef 
we  have  eaten  since  leaving  San  Francisco  (all 
through  the  Orient  they  kill  a  species  of  carabao 
or  water-buffalo,  for  beef),  and  while  we  were 
regaling  ourselves  on  the  fruit  of  our  good  for 
tune  the  China  arrived  with  naval  reinforce 
ments. 

It  was  a  relief  that  brought  with  it  a  tightening 
of  discipline.  Few  boats  have  returned  from 


271 


272  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

shore  without  bringing  their  complement  of  bat 
tle  spoils  from  Cavite,  their  accumulation  gradu 
ally  changing  the  appearance  of  our  decks  into 
those  of  pleasure  yachts,  until  one  morning  there 
came  an  order  that  cleared  ship  and  left  the  bay 
afloat  with  rocking-chairs,  sofas,  and  gilt-framed 
saints. 

It  was  soon  like  old  times,  even  the  brig  waxing 
into  renewed  favor,  until  Microbes  (ever  hu 
mane)  diagnosed  it  as  unhealthy  and  unfit  for  use 
in  this  climate.  Microbes  did  his  part,  but  some 
one  saw  the  alternative:  put  the  prisoners  in 
double  irons,  and  chained  them  promiscuously 
about  the  decks.  One  could  not  keep  from  laugh 
ing,  it  was  so  suggestive  of  a  human  kennel. 

In  coming  here  we  were  unable  to  bring  our 
laundrymen  from  China  or  Japan,  but  the  wash 
ing  problem  solved  itself  in  a  most  unexpected 
and  satisfactory  manner. 

In  the  storehouses  of  Cavite  there  are  thou 
sands  of  white  sailor  suits,  which  we  confiscate  at 
will,  wearing  them  until  soiled,  then  casting  them 
adrift  for  a  fresh  suit.  The  cork  helmets,  too,  we 
have  adopted,  finding  them  for  comfort's  sake  a 
vast  improvement  on  our  own  headgear  for  this 
climate.  The  most  complimentary  greeting  ex 
changed  now  on  shore  is:  "Halloo,  is  that  you? 
I  thought  it  was  Stanley  in  Africa." 


GENERAL  MERRITT  273 

On  the  twenty-fifth,  General  Merritt  came  in 
on  the  Newport,  and  on  the  thirty-first,  McAr- 
thur's  reinforcements  reached  Cavite.  Then  fol 
lowed  councils  of  war;  the  officers  of  the  army 
and  of  the  navy  meeting  on  board  the  Olympia  to 
discuss  grave  matters,  which  culminated  on 
August  7th,  when  Admiral  Dewey  and  General 
Merritt  jointly  demanded  the  surrender  of 
Manila.  It  was  refused,  and  once  more  we 
cleared  for  action  and  got  ready  to  cast  loose  and 
provide. 

On  the  morning  of  August  i4th,  the  admiral 
announced  that  unless  the  Spanish  authorities 
laid  down  their  arms  by  noon  the  City  of  Manila 
would  be  bombarded  by  the  Americans.  This 
declaration  was  the  signal  for  all  foreign  ships  to 
withdraw  to  points  of  safety  beyond  possible  lines 
of  fire,  and  there  was  a  general  heaving  of  an 
chor  and  steaming  away.  Only  the  English  fleet 
commanded  by  Admiral  Sir  Edward  Chichester 
disobeyed.  As  we  drew  into  battle-line  his  fleet 
followed,  keeping  within  a  few  cable-lengths  of 
our  line,  their  ships  all  manned  as  though  in  re 
view,  and  their  band  playing  American  airs. 

Half  a  dozen  broadsides  from  our  ships  cleared 
a  path  for  our  soldiers,  through  which  they 
marched  waist-deep  in  water,  firing  as  they  ad 
vanced.  It  was  an  exultant  onset.  They  took 


274  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

seven  thousand  prisoners,  and  when  our  colors 
broke,  it  should  have  been  the  Olympic,  to  fire  the 
first  gun,  but  the  English,  just  as  a  proud  parent 
looking  on  at  the  graduation  exercises  of  its  off 
spring,  clapped  his  hands  before  the  diploma  was 
fairly  in  his  son's  grasp.  So,  the  deep-voiced  can 
non  of  our  mother  country  boomed  the  first  salute 
to  America's  flag  flying  over  Manila. 

It  was  a  glorious  victory,  quickly  followed  by  a 
cablegram  from  Washington  commanding  a  ces 
sation  of  hostilities,  an  opportunity  that  our  ad 
miral  embraced  to  get  us  all  back  into  shipshape 
once  more. 

Singly  and  in  pairs  each  ship  returned  to 
Hong-Kong  and  the  Kau-lung  dry-docks.  When 
our  turn  came,  the  flag  with  its  accompanying 
ensign  moved  temporarily  over  to  the  Baltimore, 
and  we  rode  out  under  the  pennant  of  a  new  cap 
tain. 

A  bit  of  circumstantial  evidence  I  am  inserting 
here  in  order  to  prove  that  said  new  captain  was 
proud  of  his  berth. 

It  was  early  on  our  first  morning  out  that  I 
chanced  to  get  a  view  of  him.  He  was  wearing 
pink  pajamas  and  a  benignant  smile.  In  his  hand 
was  a  brimming  cocktail,  which  he  lifted  to  his 
reflection  in  the  mirror,  saying  in  a  voice  that  I 
could  not  help  but  hear,  "D us  American 


THE    FIRST    NEBRASKA    MARCHING    UP    THE    BEACH    TOWARD    MANILA 


BAND    OF    THE    FIRST    COLORADO    MARCHING    f 


TOWARD    MANILA 


AUGUST  i4th  277 

sailors!  Here  's  to  us/'  Then  he  drained  the 
glass. 

It  was  only  a  little  conceit  that  might  be  passed 
with  a  smile,  but  I  am  not  alone  in  the  opinion 
that,  after  all  the  hardships  we  had  endured,  in 
cluding  three  months  without  shore-liberty, 
twenty-four  hours  at  Hong-Kong  would  have 
been  no  stretch  of  generosity  on  his  part.  The 
crews  of  the  ships  that  had  preceded  us  had  been 
given  it  even  up  to  forty-eight  hours;  in  fact,  it 
was  their  recital  of  the  courteous  reception  ten 
dered  them  by  everybody  in  Hong-Kong  that 
awoke  us  to  the  realization  of  what  heroes  we  are. 

The  boys  on  the  Charlie  are  so  sore  not  to  have 
been  in  it  that  they  could  not  without  self-humili 
ation  show  much  homage,  and  the  "gravel  agita 
tors"  [soldiers]  nursed  the  thought  all  the  way 
out  here  that  we  were  unable  to  do  anything  until 
they  came  to  show  us  how. 

But  in  Hong-Kong,  the  Scotch  Brigade,  West 
Yorkshire,  and  the  Queen's  Own  vied  with  one 
another  doing  us  homage,  while  the  British  sail 
ors  received  us  like  brothers.  These  were  the 
conditions  awaiting  us  in  Victoria,  and  we  were 
granted  only  a  measly  overnight  liberty  to  en 
joy  it. 

The  starboard  had  the  second  liberty,  and  as 
we  gathered  to  return  in  the  morning  some  one 


278  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

called  out,  "Come  on,  let  's  break  liberty !"  The 
way  the  suggestion  took,  one  unacquainted  might 
have  thought  it  original.  There  were  one  hun 
dred  and  sixty  of  us  in  the  bunch,  mostly  over- 
timers,  and  a  corporal's  guard  could  not  have 
been  mustered  from  the  gang  (all  ship-overs) 
who  returned  on  time. 

Two  days  later,  when  the  Olympiads  whistle 
blew  a  general  recall,  a  few  more,  grown  faint 
hearted,  obeyed  its  summons,  while  more  than 
one  hundred  of  us  watched  our  good  ship  sail 
away. 

Of  course  there  was  a  reward  upon  each  head, 
but  not  a  man  who  wore  her  Majesty's  uniform 
could  be  bribed  to  lay  hand  upon  a  hero! 

Our  ship  out  of  sight,  we  took  up  a  tarpaulin 
muster,  moved  out  to  Happy  Valley  and  set  up 
camp.  We  were  wearing  our  best  suits,  and  feel 
ing  that  they  were  not  appropriate  camping-togs, 
bought  cheap  white  trousers  and  shirts  and 
ceased  to  be  sailors  until,  warned  that  time  was 
approaching,  we  dressed  as  for  muster,  went  in  a 
body,  and  sat  down  outside  of  the  U.  S.  Consulate 
and  waited  until  it  was  just  nine  days  and  twenty- 
three  hours  from  the  time  we  had  left  the  ship. 
Then  we  reported  ourselves  "Stragglers,  clean 
and  sober." 

It  was  up  to  the  consul  to  look  shocked  and  to 


A  TARPAULIN  MUSTER          279 

make  a  speech.  This  he  delivered  in  a  manner 
that  brought  him  vociferous  cheering.  He  fin 
ished  by  warning  us  to  stay  out  by  ourselves, 
bothering  no  one,  and  to  report  to  him  every 
morning  between  eight  and  ten  and  receive  our 
allowance.  (A  silver  dollar  each.) 

This,  in  addition  to  what  was  left  in  the  tar 
paulin,  put  us  on  easy-deck,  though  it  allowed  no 
surplus  for  riotous  living. 

We  were  unquestionably  the  attraction  of 
Hong-Kong.  Hundreds  of  people,  representa 
tives  from  all  classes  of  society,  flocked  to  see  us, 
and  one  morning,  as  we  were  on  our  way  to  the 
Consulate  (we  wore  our  uniforms  on  these  trips), 
we  met  a  victoria,  its  sole  occupant  being  a  most 
charming  old  lady.  She  poked  her  parasol  into 
her  coachman's  neck  as  a  signal  to  stop.  It  was 
written  in  her  face  that  she  wanted  to  say  some 
thing  kind  and  motherly  to  us,  so  she  prefaced 
whatever  she  was  about  to  say  with,  "Are  you 
the  American  sailors  ?" 

Before  any  one  had  time  to  get  his  cap  off 
to  answer,  Jack  Weir's  de  profundis  growled, 
"What  in  h — 1  do  you  suppose  we  are  wearing 
these  uniforms  for?" 

Now,  it  is  an  established  fact  that,  no  matter 
how  varied  are  the  sins  of  the  United  States  blue 
jacket,  he  has  carved  for  himself  a  reputation,  if 


280  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

not  really  for  gallantry  toward  the  gentle  sex,  it 
is  something  that  runs  parallel  to  that  virtue.  No 
one  has  ever  known  a  sailor  to  stoop  to  what  is 
commonly  called  "mashing";  in  short,  when  on 
shore  Jack  attends  strictly  to  his  own  business. 

Even  Weir,  who  has  a  reputation  to  live  up  to, 
would  not  have  taken  the  initiative ;  but  this  was 
not  the  first  time  his  answer  had  brought  confu 
sion  and  mortification  to  his  shipmates. 

Almost  every  evening  we  gave  either  exhibi 
tions  in  boxing  and  wrestling  or  a  concert,  and 
we  should  have  gone  away  leaving  a  record  for 
peace  equal  to  the  one  we  had  made  for  fighting 
on  the  first  of  May,  had  we  not  come  in  contact 
with  some  of  the  Kaiser's  sailors.  They  were  in 
no  manner  aggressive,  but  we  were  boiling  with 
memories  of  Germany's  treatment  of  us  at  Ca- 
vite,  and  we  lost  no  occasion  for  taking  the  poor 
revenge  that  was  left  to  us.  The  bloody  alterca 
tions  that  ensued  were  growing  irritating  to  the 
square-heads,  who,  resolving  upon  putting  an 
end  to  them,  sent  to  their  ship  for  recruits.  We 
got  on  to  their  racket,  and  when  they  rowed  up  to 
the  wharf  we  would  not  allow  them  to  land.  It 
was  a  bloody  battle,  and  when  it  was  done  I  stood 
amidst  the  victors  watching  a  gory,  disheveled  lot 
of  Germans  pulling  for  their  ship.  Then  I  sur 
veyed  myself  and  found  that  the  only  rag  that 


A  TARPAULIN  MUSTER          281 

covered  me  from  the  waist  up  was  a  black  ribbon 
on  my  right  arm  which  was  marked  in  gilt  let 
ters,  Kaiserin  Augusta. 

In  due  time  the  Concord  came  in  and  there 
were  rejoicings  over  the  meeting  of  old  friends, 
although  they  each  and  all  intimated  that  all 
sorts  of  undesirable  things  were  waiting  for  us 
in  Manila. 

Finally,  there  came  a  day  when  we  went  for 
our  plunk,  when  the  consul  told  us  to  come  no 
more,  but  to  be  at  the  dock  the  next  morning,  as 
we  were  to  return  on  the  Concord.  Oh,  joy  un 
speakable!  A  trip  from  Hong-Kong  to  Manila 
without  a  stroke  of  work !  The  thought  was  in 
toxicating,  but  we  sobered  quickly  when  we  got 
on  board,  being  put  directly  on  duty  while  the 
Concord's  crew  slept  all  night  in  their  hammocks, 
and,  like  passengers,  laughed  at  us  all  day,  not 
omitting  to  remind  us  that  hammocks  made  de 
lightful  places  to  sleep;  for  we,  alas!  when  off 
duty  must  drop  on  the  bare  decks.  We  worked 
like  seamen  with  the  accommodations  of  tramps. 

If  the  captain  who  held  sticks  on  the  Olympia 
on  our  return  had  been  less  irate  I  think  I  should 
have  turned  back  a  few  pages  and  drawn  a  blue 
pencil  through  that  pajama  sketch  I  made;  but 
he  did  score  us  unmercifully.  He  has  promised 
on  the  sacredness  of  all  of  his  gold  lace  never  to 

15 


282  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

forget  a  man  of  us.  He  feels  we  have  irredeem 
ably  disgraced  the  great  American  navy  and  that 
it  is  up  to  him  to  avenge  it. 

From  our  ranks  the  brig  drew  a  full  comple 
ment,  but  I  was  put  directly  back  on  duty  in  the 
admiral's  launch.  The  admiral,  bless  him !  is  so 
very  busy  with  a  great  many  things  that  I  fancy 
he  really  has  forgotten  if  he  ever  heard  what  an 
escapade  one  hundred  and  one  blue- jackets  have 
been  having. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

MANILA— THE  NERO — HOME  AGAIN  ! 

IT  was  like  returning  to  school  after  vacation. 
In  a  very  few  days  we  all  settled  back  into  our 
regular  grooves,  performing  our  tasks  like  so 
many  automatons.  Double  watches  and  garrison 
duty  were  things  of  the  past.  We  enjoyed  once 
more  the  old  delights  of  port  life.  General  Mer- 
ritt  is  on  his  way  to  Paris  to  participate  in  the 
Peace  Conference,  and  .we  seem  to  be  only  wait 
ing. 

Small-arm  practice  makes  a  delightful  pastime, 
and  there  is  only  one  better  shot  with  a  pistol  than 
Dewey,  and  that  is  freckled-face  Pete  of  Texas. 
Pete  is  a  new-comer,  and  the  first  time  we  had 
rifle  target  practice  he  made  some  shots  that  his 
division  officer  complimented.  Pete  replied,  "Oh, 
I  ain't  much  shucks  with  a  gun,  but  I  'm  jist  pizen 
with  a  pistol,"  and  he  made  good  his  boast  that  he 
could  make  BufTalo  Bill  or  the  glass-ball  shooters 
appear  like  amateurs  in  his  class. 

Manila  is  ours,  and  we  are  getting  as  much  out 


283 


284  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

of  it  in  the  way  of  pleasure  as  we  are  capable  of. 
Our  soldiers  hold  the  fort  and  do  the  martyr  act. 

If  the  volunteer  soldier  amounts  to  a  hill  of 
beans  after  this  business  is  over  it  won't  be  the 
fault  of  the  ladies  of  America.  Every  ship  that 
comes  is  ballasted  with  sewing  bags  and  red  flan 
nel  belly-bands,  each  neatly  folded  about  a  couplet 
of  verse  or  a  temperance  tract,  for  the  soldiers. 

We  are  not  envious,  we  do  not  want  nor  need 
their  gifts,  and  to  be  just,  will  own  that  a  sailor's 
life  in  Manila  is  not  half  so  arduous  as  that  of  the 
soldier ;  for  while  we  are  sleeping  well  housed  be 
tween  decks,  they,  poor  devils,  are  often  lying  in 
muddy  trenches  with  a  deluging  rain  their  only 
canopy. 

There  is  a  veritable  colony  of  Associated  Press 
Representatives  here,  and  the  folks  at  home  are 
reading  every  word  they  write.  I  hope  they  will 
describe  the  "dusky  sefioritas"  who  sit  all  day  be 
neath  the  shade  of  the  palms  dispensing  beer 
from  square  kegs  packed  about  with  ice  and  gar 
landed  with  blossoms.  It  is  quite  as  novel  and  a 
much  prettier  picture  than  that  made  by  the 
police. 

Of  the  latter  I  have  never  known  one  to  make 
an  arrest.  They  are  the  very  acme  of  the  land  of 
manana.  To  see  policemen  barefoot  and  ragged, 
carrying  cocks  under  their  arms  whenever  they 


UNIVE 

Vt-  or 


THE  NERO  287 

meet,  stretching  themselves  on  the  ground,  list 
lessly  watching  until  the  bout  is  over,  when  each 
cop  picks  up  his  bird  and  goes  on  his  beat — I  say 
it  is  too  funny. 

At  first  the  newness  of  things  rendered  it  in 
teresting,  but  when  Thanksgiving  came  about,  I 
searched  my  heart,  and  found  the  most  genuine 
thankfulness  there  was  that  I  had  not  been  born 
either  a  Spaniard  or  a  Filipino.  With  this  burst 
of  gratitude  written  to  my  own  credit  I  drifted 
with  the  tide  of  events  until  one  night,  just  after 
we  had  turned  in,  Chalmers  came  to  my  hammock 
and  said : 

"Jack,  you  are  drafted  for  home,  and  on  to  the 
Nero  to-morrow." 

"Go  to  blazes !"  I  said. 

"Sure,  Jack;  it  is  straight  goods."  But  I  could 
not  believe  it. 

Seven  months  had  gone  by  since  the  battle  and 
not  a  man  had  been  sent  home.  I  lay  and  thought 
as  hard  as  the  weather  would  permit  me  to  think, 
and,  finally,  when  the  breathing  from  the  long 
rows  of  hammocks  grew  into  a  regular  cadence, 
dropped  from  mine  and  ran  lightly  forward  to 
the  bulletin-board.  Could  I  believe  my  eyes? 
There  were  forty-nine  names  on  the  draft,  and 
mine  third  on  the  list. 

I  shouted  and  I  yelled.    The  officer-of-the-deck 


288  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

sent  for  me  and  would  have  put  me  into  the  brig 
for  disturbing  the  ship's  slumber,  but  when  I  told 
him  the  cause  he  excused  me,  as  he  did  also  from 
the  watch. 

I  was  told  that  I  might  sleep  all  night;  but 
though  I  believe  I  lay  as  motionless  as  the  guns  in 
their  sponsons,  I  never  closed  my  eyes. 

At  nine  o'clock  in  the  morning  I  went  over  the 
side,  Andy,  ever  faithful,  helping  me  with  my 
diddy-box  and  bag.  There  followed  a  few  busy 
days  in  making  ready,  and,  finally,  one  evening, 
when  the  effulgent  splendor  of  a  tropical  sunset 
hung  its  banner  for  a  background,  the  Olympiads 
band  came  on  deck,  and  a  homeward-bounder 
broke  from  the  Nero's  mainmast  as  the  blessed 
strains  of  "Home,  Sweet  Home"  floated  into  the 
twilight ;  then  I  threw  my  cap  into  the  water  and 
put  my  hands  to  my  mouth,  shouting,  ffGood-by, 
Andy!"  and  thought  I  heard  through  the  din  an 
answering,  "Aye,  aye,  Jack." 

The  piston-rods  slid  slow  at  first  and  then,  with 
four  bells  and  a  jingle,  the  engineer  threw  open 
the  throttle  and  away  we  went.  I  stood  upon  the 
deck  looking  back.  It  was  the  moment  I  had 
waited  and  prayed  for,  and  still  I  was  not  glad. 
For  three  years  and  eight  months  the  proud  ship 
had  been  my  home ;  and  it  was  with  a  sickening, 
sinking  feeling  I  watched  it  fading  and  fading,  a 


INSIDE    THE    GOLDEN    GATE    AGAIN 


-*:*> 


*r*s, 


TV 


HOME  AGAIN!  291 

leaden  streak  that  dwindled  into  a  black  spot 
against  a  lurid  sky,  and  I  wondered  when  and 
where  I  should  ever  see  her  again. 

We  are  taking  back  a  lot  of  Spanish  cannon, 
Mauser  rifles,  cartridges,  etc.,  as  trophies  of  war. 

Our  voyage  must  have  been  void  of  interest  or 
incident  but  for  three  little  occurrences.  The  first 
happened  on  our  tenth  day  out.  We  had  not 
sighted  land  for  days,  and  were  therefore  not  a 
little  surprised  to  see  a  snow-white  dove  perched 
upon  one  of  our  yard-arms,  where  it  remained 
throughout  the  forenoon;  then,  spreading  its 
wings,  it  swooped  down,  circled  above  our  heads 
and  darted  away  landward. 

Scotty  Ross  says  it  was  no  dead  sailor,  or  it 
would  have  been  a  sea-bird.  We  want  to  bet  that 
the  Peace  Treaty  was  signed  in  Paris  on  the 
tenth  of  December. 

The  second  event  was  a  typhoon  that  washed 
our  chicken-coops  overboard,  thereby  robbing  us 
of  a  portion  of  our  intended  Christmas  dinner; 
but  fate  or  the  skipper  directed  our  course  in  such 
a  manner  that  we  got  stuck  on  the  meridian,  and 
had  two  Christmas  days  instead  of  one.  We 
were  compensated  for  the  loss  of  fowl  by  being 
served  with  plum-duff  on  both  festivals.  Duff 
at  sea  is  no  longer  a  mixture  of  flour  and  water 
boiled  into  the  consistency  of  molten  lead,  and 


292  THREE  YEARS  BEHIND  THE  GUNS 

eaten  with  black  molasses,  but  has  evolved  into  a 
very  good  plum  pudding. 

The  third  and  last  event  worth  mention  oc 
curred  less  than  a  week  ago. 

Dozing  in  the  rigging,  I  was  startled  into 
wakefulness  to  find  myself  lying  flat  against  the 
mast,  face  down,  looking  straight  into  the  bowels 
of  the  deep;  then  the  stern  settled  back  and  with 
a  wallow  surged  into  a  chasm  of  ocean  left  by  a 
mountain  of  water  that  rolled  on  like  a  single 
chord,  struck,  all  out  of  tune,  from  a  Wagnerian 
tempest. 

A  general  summons  was  blown,  but  before  all 
hands  could  muster  the  ship  had  righted  herself, 
and  there  was  naught  to  see  save  a  blue  sea  hur 
rying  on  ahead.  The  deck  officer  confirmed  our 
suppositions— it  was  a  tidal  wave. 

VALE 

"!F  you  take  the  glasses  and  go  aloft  you  ought 
to  see  the  Farallones,"  said  the  Nero's  executive 
officer;  and,  sure  enough,  there  they  were!  Oh, 
the  sight  of  them !  It  brought  on  a  flood  of  mem 
ories  that  all  but  engulfed  me.  I  tried  to  recall 
"What  might  have  been,"  but  it  was  futile.  I 
hurried  below  to  gather  my  belongings  and  to 
finish  my  writing,  and  now,  sitting  on  my  diddy- 


HOME  AGAIN!  293 

box  with  my  book  on  my  knee,  I  have  only  time 
to  write  that  I  would  rather  have  been  in  the  Bat 
tle  of  Manila  than  to  have  sat  in  the  United 
States  Senate. 

On  the  crimson  path  of  the  setting  sun  we  are 
sailing  in  through  the  Golden  Gate.  In  another 
hour  the  bo's'n  will  pipe :  "Take  in  your  foresail, 
mainsail,  and  spanker,  and  make  them  up  for  a 
full  do.  Do  you  h-e-a-r  that,  now?"  My  head 
and  my  heart  are  throbbing;  my  hand  trembles 
and  my  eyes  grow  dim. 

To-morrow  I  shall  go  ashore  and  take  up  the 
thread  where  it  was  broken;  but  if  ever  the 
American  eagle  shrieks  for  help  I  shall  be  among 
the  first  to  answer,  and  if  any  one  seek  me,  let 
him  look,  for  he  will  surely  find  me— 

BEHIND  THE  GUNS. 


MAY    31  1932 
MAY    31  1932 


75^-8/31 


